


From Give and Take

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9507350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Alternate POV fic collection for 2017!





	1. For What It's Worth, It Was Worth All the While - Bellamy POV

**Author's Note:**

> Original fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5716972)! Birthday fic for [feminist14er](http://feminist14er.tumblr.com/)!

"So, what's the end-game here?" Miller asks.

"It's Ascension," Bellamy shoots back. "You know how to play Ascension."

Miller snorts, and Bellamy has to admit, he basically deserves it. "I know you don't really like your actual classmates, but you can't tell me you actually want to spend the whole weekend hanging out with a girl who has another boyfriend." He pauses. "Even if Monty thinks it's bullshit."

It's objectively a bizarre statement. "What exactly does he think is bullshit?"

"He and Jasper were betting on what weird thing Clarke was going to do here before she showed up. I don't really remember her from school," he adds. "But apparently they weren't sure she was going to come and when she got here with a boyfriend, Monty decided they were fake dating."

"That's not a thing," he says.

"Yeah, that was my take on it. So I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"Talking to a pretty girl doesn't count as getting my hopes up." He pauses. "Also I wasn't even thinking they weren't a real couple before you said it, so you're the one getting my hopes up. Dick."

"Talking to a pretty girl who lives in your city," Miller says. "Who apparently might have a boyfriend."

"Yeah, I've seen movies," he says, overly casual. "Even if they're not dating _now_ , they will be by the end of the weekend. That's how it works. You bring someone as a fake date and then feelings turn real." 

"Yeah, that checks out. You've just been single for a while," he adds, in his _we are functioning adults who can discuss feelings_ voice. It's always a terrifying voice, coming from Miller.

"And I'm still single. This doesn't change that. Seriously, I'm not sure what you're worried about. I'm making new friends. Do you think I'm going to like her better than you? Don't worry, you're still my number-one person I'd date if they were single, you know that. No one can take that away from you."

Miller snorts. "Yeah, I'm breaking your heart every day. Also, she's on her way over, so act normal."

"You act normal," he shoots back, and resists the urge to look around for her.

The thing is, Miller isn't exactly wrong. Bellamy has been single for a while, and he did feel a sharp, sudden spike of interest at the first sight of Clarke, all big eyes and soft-looking hair, with a slightly husky voice and perfectly curved smile. She _was_ really cute, on top of being vaguely familiar, and he'd been pretty pumped to learn she was friends with Octavia, because that meant he'd absolutely be seeing more of her.

But then she said she had a boyfriend, and _introduced_ him to said boyfriend, and Bellamy tried to stop thinking of her as a girl he'd like to make out with and start thinking of her as a girl he'd like to get to know.

Unfortunately, he still kind of wants to make out with her, and Miller noticed, so now he's going to be all self-conscious about it. Even though he's not doing anything wrong. He's not _going_ to make out with her.

So when she sits down next to him, he just offers a smile and says, "Morning. Sleep well?"

Her face scrunches up, and he really wishes Miller wasn't here. Mostly because now he's paranoid about noticing how cute she is. "Until Lincoln woke up at the crack of dawn for hiking, yeah. Don't tell me Monty went too," she adds, to Miller.

"Yeah, no. He and Raven and Jasper are on a conference call for work. You know them, they can't just leave the company alone."

Her smile indicates that she thinks her friends' workaholic tendencies are endearing. "So we won't see them for the rest of the weekend?" 

"Most likely."

"But O and your boyfriend are going to be eaten by cougars. So they're probably the worst off." He considers for a minute, and then adds, "Until your ex shows up, anyway."

He still feels a little weird talking about the ex; he remembers how much O disliked her, and the fact that it went wrong and Clarke's not thrilled about seeing her again doesn't make it feel an easier to navigate. Mostly it feels like he's tuning in in the middle of a soap opera and trying to figure out how all the characters relate and which ones he's supposed to be rooting for.

"Do I have to go hiking to get eaten by cougars?" Clarke asks, sounding thoughtful. "Or can I just get eaten here? If I don't have to hike, the cougars sound better than my ex."

He has to smile. "Glad we figured that out. Eaten alive is fine, as long as you can do it inside."

"Basically." She turns her attention back to Miller. "What are you guys doing today?"

Miller rolls his eyes. "Dragging Monty off the phone. For his own good. He's using vacation days for this. I assume you've got stuff to do with your actual classmates," he adds, to Bellamy, like he's just setting him up to admit he's avoiding everyone he knows. Which he _is_. Bellamy doesn't even know why they're friends.

"Fuck no, all the official activities are bullshit." He opens his mouth to say what he was planning to do, and then realizes Miller is going to make fun of him. And Clarke might make fun of him. And both of them might think he's trying to do something she'll like to impress her or something, which he _isn't_. It's not his fault he likes museums. "I was actually going to hit up the college museum," he says anyway, because it's not like lying is going to improve the situation.

Clarke perks up; he doesn't check Miller for a reaction. "Yeah? Do they have anything special going on?"

"Comic-book art exhibit."

She's _beaming_. It's possible he'll never be able to look at Miller again. This isn't his _fault_. He and Clarke have similar interests, apparently. He's not doing anything special. "That sounds awesome, can I come?"

"I will also want to check out other stuff."

"You got the part where I'm an artist who works part-time at a museum, right?" she asks, with a roll of her eyes. "Do you think I don't want to look at at everything?"

It's not surprising, but it is awesome. 

Again, never looking at Miller again. They don't live in the same place. He can avoid eye contact for the foreseeable future. It won't even be that hard.

"Yeah, okay, that was stupid of me. Of course you're welcome."

"Awesome, that sounds so much better than sitting around my room all day. When were you going? After breakfast?"

"Yeah. I figure once O is back, she'll have plans, because she always does, so I have to do my own thing while she's occupied." He doesn't look at Miller, but he does make his move in Ascension. "What about you? You want to come?"

"I gotta drag Monty out of whatever hole he's in. But you guys have fun."

Bellamy can _hear_ him smirking. He's the worst.

"Tell them whatever they're doing will be there after the reunion," Clarke says. "Also that the sun is nice and their friend."

"I'm never going to sell them on that one."

"Yeah, I don't even buy it." She stretches, bumps her shoulder against Bellamy's. "So, just you and me?"

He manages a smile. "Just you and me."

*

Clarke's quiet as they walk over to the museum, and Bellamy's struggling for a conversation starter when she asks, "When did Octavia tell you about my ex?" 

The question is so unexpected it takes him a second to process it. "Huh?"

Clarke ducks her head, a faint flush on her cheeks. "Just--I was kind of worried she was going to still be mad at me. I was kind of a dick senior year with the whole thing, and we haven't done that well keeping up with each other."

It does make some sense. "Oh, that. I did get some _god, Clarke's girlfriend is an asshole_ calls your senior year, yeah. Honestly, I think she was just stressed, though. She was freaking out about graduation and all you guys going your separate ways."

She lets out a small, self-deprecating snort. "Which we did."

"Yeah, but--she's not holding a grudge," he assures her. "Don't worry. She mentioned you were in Boston when she took her job and she was hoping to reconnect, but that's about all I've heard about you in the last few years. It's not like she still calls me up to say your girlfriend was an asshole five years ago."

She grins. "I tell Lincoln how my girlfriend was an asshole five years ago all the time."

"Yeah, it's probably more relevant to your life." She brought it up, so he feels safe adding, "I didn't get that much detail about how she was an asshole, aside from O not liking her. Which, uh--O doesn't always have the most unbiased opinions."

"Neither do I, she's my ex," she says with a smile. But she pauses, thinking it over. "Do you have--some people just make you see all the worst stuff about yourself, you know?"

Part of him does get it, but more of him doesn't, not really. It never feels like news, when people do that. Just like confirmation. "I like to think I kind of do that myself."

Her reaction is instant, and that's enough to make him laugh. "I hope not, it sucks." She considers again. "It's not quite that, just--whenever I see her or my mom, I think about what my life was supposed to be at this point. And I don't want that life, but I feel like I should." Another pause, and then she adds, deliberate, "Also, she's just really good at making people feel shitty about themselves. Or she was."

It seems like a lousy quality for a significant other, but she is Clarke's _ex_. And Lincoln seems to be a big improvement. "You seem like you're doing fine to me. But I grew up poor, so just having balance in my savings account is awesome as far as I'm concerned."

"I grew up stupid rich. So my idea of success is based a lot on that. Status and shit."

"Yeah, I remember that too. Octavia might have called you a spoiled princess a lot your freshman year."

Clarke seems pleased by the statement, and it is a little strange, connecting this living, breathing girl to the person from his sister's stories, the one she never seemed fully aware how she felt about. "I really was. I was so sheltered and spoiled when I got here."

"You seem like a pretty normal person now," he offers.

"I'm trying."

He holds the museum door open, and she nods her thanks as they go inside. "Did she tell you about me? I'm starting to feel like a creep, remembering this much about you."

She shoots him a grin. "She hated some girl you dated when we were juniors."

It takes him a second to dredge up the memory. "Roma, yeah. She really hated Roma."

"And she said you pretty much raised her," she adds, her voice a little soft, like she's really impressed or something.

And she has a boyfriend. A very hot boyfriend. 

But he can make a good impression as a friend, right?

"Pretty much. Our grandma died when O was five, and after that, yeah--it was just me and her, honestly." He shrugs. "I don't think Mom really wanted kids, so she just let us fend for ourselves."

"When did she die?" she asks, curious. "She did, right?"

"Yeah, four years ago. Don't say you're sorry," he tells her, before she can do more than open her mouth. "It's awkward if I have to pretend it made a difference in my life. Also, it's been four years."

She smiles with half her mouth. "I was going to say that's when my dad died."

For a second, he hesitates, but she seems fairly cool about it, so he says, "I assume I should actually be sorry about that?"

"Up to you. But I miss him, yeah."

"Then I'm sorry. What happened?"

"Car crash. It was the last straw for me and my mom too, so--it's basically just been me and Lincoln since then."

He's going to hell, like, immediately. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Monty is so full of shit. "He seems like a really cool guy," he says, and it's true. He really does seem great. He's looking forward to spending more time with both of them. 

Really, he is. Just can't wait.

But a part of him is still hoping Lincoln doesn't much like museums.

*

"Why are all the hot people dating each other?" Octavia asks. She finished with her hike, showered, and told him to come over to her room so she could bother him, which sounded like an improvement over being anti-social in his own room. He can not talk to anyone alone in his own room any time. That's his plan most weekends. He's going to take advantage of the chance to be social while he has it.

"Because they're hot," he says. "Why wouldn't they be dating each other?"

"I'm hot. Why can't they be dating me?"

"Your shitty personality," he teases. 

"Shut up, Bell."

"Is this about Clarke's boyfriend?" 

"He's really hot, right?"

"Not my type," he says, with a shrug. "But sorry about your life. Does everyone come to reunions planning to hook up? I just wanted to see you and show my classmates I'm still hotter than they are. I wasn't cruising for a love connection. I'm starting to feel like I was the only one."

"I'm not either. I'm just saying."

"Uh huh." He sighs, puts his arm over his eyes. "I should go to my class dinner, right? Otherwise I have to pay for food."

"And if you don't see them, how are they gonna know you're hotter than they are?"

He snorts. "Yeah, that's true too." After another second of indulging his own petulance, he pushes himself up. "Okay. I'll probably see if any of the people I sorta liked want to hang out tonight. Text me if you're doing anything better, though."

"You know me, I'll go anywhere with alcohol. I'll come to you."

"Man, whoever raised you did such a shitty job."

"Right? I should ask for a refund." She gives him a big smile. "Have fun. Keep me posted on where to drink."

"I think you'll figure it out. See you later, O."

It's not like Bellamy hated his classmates or anything. But most of his close friends ended up being either older or younger than he was, and he didn't end up bonding that much with anyone. But there were people he sort of liked.

That being said, he's still not entirely sure how he ends up in the kings game. 

He understands all the individual steps, obviously. First he meets up with Murphy, who was his roommate freshman year, and seems like as good a person as any to tag along with, despite his overwhelming Murphy-ness. He's at least as generally unimpressed with school spirit and class unity as Bellamy is, and they pick up a few other people as they go, and by the time someone suggests kings, he's tipsy and on good terms with the world, so he goes along with it.

When he invites his sister, he tells her to bring whoever she wants, and he's antsy until she arrives. As he expected, she's got a horde with her, which has only grown since he last saw her.

"This is my little sister," he announces, to his own smaller group. "And all her friends. I don't even know you guys, sorry," he adds, to the two girls he hasn't seen before. "O's like a person katamari."

"No one gets your dorky references, Bell. This is Clarke's ex, Lexa, and her girlfriend, Costia. It was Costia, right?" 

"Yes," says the girl. "Nice to meet you."

His eyes flick to Clarke automatically, and she gives him a small smile. "Cool," he says. "Nice to meet you guys too. I'd introduce everyone, but it seems like a pain, so I figure we should just start drinking and let it sort itself out."

"Alcohol is the great equalizer," Clarke agrees, and takes a seat next to him. She's still pretty, and she'll probably get prettier the drunker he gets.

Monty elbows Jasper, and Bellamy tries to ignore that. On top of not making eye contact with Miller. He's going to end this weekend unable to talk to anyone he has ever met in his life.

That's cool. He can probably make new friends. It can't be that hard.

"Everyone know kings?" Echo asks. "Usual rules. Two is for you, pick someone to drink. Three is for me, you drink. Four is for floor, last person to touch the floor wins. Five is for guys, anyone who IDs as male drink. Six is for chicks, ditto for IDing as female. Seven is heaven, reach up. Eight, pick a mate to drink with you. Nine is rhymes, ten is truth or dare, jacks are Never Have I Ever. Queen is Questions, King you make your own rule, and Ace is waterfall. Cool?" She gets a round of vague agreement and nods. "Cool. Ready?"

Bellamy feels way too old to be playing kings, but it is kind of fun, in a sort of nostalgic way. And it's oddly _more_ fun to be doing it with Octavia; the two of them have always been close, but never peers, and it's kind of nice feeling like he's equal to her, like they're peers for the first time ever.

And then Murphy says, "Bellamy, I dare you to kiss someone."

The _dare_ response was traditional; he and Murphy _always_ dare each other, and asking for a truth would have been a sign of weakness. But it's really not the dare he was expecting.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"That's really tame for you," he says, and regrets it instantly.

Murphy smirks. "Would you rather streak? You can streak."

"No takebacks," he says, and then realizes he has to kiss someone.

It's not like he doesn't have options. The circle is fairly large, and he knows about half the people in it. He's kissed some number of them. But he'd have to crawl across the cards to get to most of the people he knew before this weekend, and it's not like he _wants_ to kiss Murphy, even if it would serve him right. He could kiss Miller, but--

But Clarke's been kind of leaning in to talk to him a lot, and smiling, and he's just drunk enough to feel kind of stupid and reckless with it.

"You mind?" he asks her, with half a smile.

She and Lincoln exchange a look and they both shrug, and she turns back to him, a smile playing on her own lips, and cocks her head in invitation.

Bellamy hasn't kissed someone on a dare since college, and not even _recent_ college. That was, like, sophomore year shit. But it doesn't actually feel as intimidating as it did back then, when he was hormonal and angsty basically all the time. Now he's just--kissing a pretty girl with a boyfriend. It's nothing. He doesn't know what Murphy was thinking.

It occurs to him as he's leaning in that he drank on being into her earlier, and this might be weird, but--she knows that too, and her eyes are fluttering shut, so she can't be too opposed to the whole thing.

It's just a _kiss_.

Her mouth is soft and tastes like alcohol and fruit juice. He's not going to slip her tongue or anything, Murphy can't possibly expect that, but even without, it's _nice_. He likes kissing, and the warmth of her skin against his, the pliancy of her lips that makes him think, just for a second, that if he deepened the kiss, she'd let him. She'd kiss back.

So he pulls away before he can decide to try it.

Her eyes are still closed, her lips slightly parted, and--he can't be reading these signals entirely wrong, right? He's not good at this. The signals have to be pretty strong for him to even notice. So--

"I'm going to have you streak next time," Murphy says, and for the first time he's grateful for Murphy's inability to keep his mouth shut.

"There are only two tens left," he shoots back, and his voice comes out normal.

Clarke leans into Lincoln, and he tries not to think about it. "You should try that," she says.

He can hear the smile in Lincoln's voice, so that's--something? Fucked if he knows. He's either had too much or too little to drink. Either way, he's not prepared for this situation. "If I get a ten," he says, "I intend to."

*

By the time kings is done, Bellamy's leading theory is that Clarke and Lincoln are in an open, poly relationship, and one or both of them wants to fuck him, which is--flattering, and kind of fine, except that he hasn't been good at casual sex in a while. And as much as he thinks sex with Clarke would be fun, he's not really looking for a one-and-done thing.

Maybe it's a sign of maturity.

He started taking smaller sips for his drinks after the kiss, to try to keep himself from doing anything stupid, but he doesn't even know what stupid would involve, at this point. Either everything he's thinking is stupid, or none of it is.

Mostly, he just wants to talk to Clarke. It feels like she might clear some things up, and that's a staggering thought, when he's only known her for a weekend. The whole situation is odd enough he should probably just cut his losses and ignore everyone in Octavia's friend group. He could spend more time with Murphy. That's a plausible life choice. 

But when Clarke says, "I'll go get drinks," he can't resist.

"I'll help," he says, at the same time Lincoln does, because of course he does. There's no other way that could have played out, in retrospect.

"Great, three of us should be able to pick up enough booze, no problem," says Clarke, with the kind of aggressive cheer that means she also thinks this is weird, but she's going to power through. So he is too. Solidarity. "Come on."

He's not going to get a better opportunity to try to figure out what's happening, and the June air is sobering, even if it's not cool. It's just always easier to think when you're not surrounded by a circle of drunk people. Alcohol is absolutely contagious.

"I'm pretty sure they think we just wanted to have a threesome," he finally settles on. It's safe, neutral, and true, which means if they laugh it off, he can too.

There's a pause long enough he'd say he starts to feel awkward, but he's been feeling awkward for a while. He's _always_ awkward, honestly.

Finally, Clarke asks, "Were you thinking that?"

It's a fair question he should have seen coming. He goes with, "Uh, Lincoln's not really my type." And then he can't help adding, "No offense. You seem like a cool guy." He's flattered, but--threesome logistics are kind of beyond him, honestly.

Lincoln just smiles. "None taken. This is all you," he tells Clarke, and then claps her on the shoulder, nods to Bellamy, and takes off in a different direction. Bellamy sort of assumes all roads lead to booze at this point in the night, but he can't help being a little concerned. Lincoln didn't even go to school here. Hopefully he doesn't get lost in his attempt to avoid an awkward conversation

Clarke worries her lip, apparently searching for words. Which makes sense, because she finally blurts out, "We're not dating. Me and Lincoln. We're just--roommates. And BFFs."

The amount of relief he feels is honestly a little pathetic, given, again, he barely knows her. But she seems so cool, and she's gorgeous, and he hasn't felt like that about anyone in a while. It wouldn't have been bad, to have to give up on it, but--he's so much happier if he doesn't have to. If they could give this a shot.

"I was already nervous about coming this weekend," Clarke goes on, the words just pouring out of her now. "And then Lexa got engaged and I honestly wasn't sure your sister didn't still hate me and it seemed like a good idea. And then we were going to tell you guys because it's awkward, but Octavia decided to be nice to Lexa, so--you can tell me to shut up any time."

His expression recovers, and he feels himself grinning. Monty was apparently right, and Clarke's single, and he thinks she's probably into him. His night is suddenly _so good_. "Oh, no, no way," he tells her, and she smiles too. "Don't stop on my account. This is awesome. Keep going."

"That's basically it," she admits. Her expression turns wistful. "I just--I was expecting this to go really badly and that I'd need backup, but then it went really well, and I felt shitty lying to you guys, but--"

"But Lexa was here," he says. He _does_ get it, sort of. He's not sure it's anything he'd ever do, but it was also just a weekend. It makes a lot of sense. "Yeah, I can see that. Telling your friends you were nervous and made your friend pose as your boyfriend for your ex's benefit is fine, but telling your ex that--"

"Yeah, exactly. Sorry."

"I'm pretty sure I'm one of the least wronged parties here," he teases. "You met me yesterday."

She looks up at him, and the intensity in her gaze makes him swallow. "Yeah, but--you live pretty close to me. I'm hoping I'm going to see more of you."

It's the best thing he's heard all weekend. "Me too." He glances around; they're almost alone. "You know your fake boyfriend wandered off, right?"

She blinks and looks around herself. "No, I didn't notice."

"And my sister was groaning about how unfair it was that all the hot people are dating each other instead of her."

Clarke grins. "Lincoln remembered her as my hot college friend, so I think--"

It's exactly the kind of news that Octavia is going to love, but he's a lot more concerned with the fact that he and Clarke are alone, and she's single, and she definitely wants to make out, so he leans in to kiss her again, letting his fingers slide into the hair at the base of her neck, and when she slides her own arms around him, he deepens the kiss like he wanted to earlier, licks into her mouth to find all the small noises of pleasure she'll make.

She's the first to pull back, breathless, and he smiles and slides his hands down to her waist. "They're definitely going to think we're having a threesome," he murmurs.

She smiles. "I'm good with that."

"Even Lexa?"

"She really mellowed out. I feel like she'd be happy for me and my many boyfriends."

He can't help laughing, giving her another quick kiss. "Seriously, you should tell O. She'll think it's hilarious."

She looks away, worrying her lip. "I didn't know she had a thing for me in college. I didn't even know she was bi."

"She's pretty heavily skewed to guys, I think. And I noticed she had a thing for you before she did, with how much she was complaining about Lexa."

"And when did you notice you had a thing for me?"

"The five minutes before you said you had a boyfriend," he says. "And the ten minutes since you said you didn't." It's not entirely true, but he figures it's the kind of polite lie that's okay. He was doing his best not to notice it in the mean time.

"That's not much of a thing," she teases, giving his hand a squeeze. He's pretty confident she's taking him somewhere to make out, and he's so down for that. "Fifteen minutes? Come on."

"Yeah, you're right," he agrees. He can't stop smiling. "But I think it's got real growth potential."

And he's right about that.


	2. And a Guy Like Me - Bellamy POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796421)!

Bellamy never expected his life to involve any kind of extended contact with Princess Clarke. Maybe, if he'd actually become a knight, like the man who was supposed to be his father wanted him to, he might have met her once or twice, in passing, at formal events. He'd seen her and never thought much of her, aside from a general knowledge that he should be loyal to her, but she was just--some person.

It's strange, to think about it now. There's no way of knowing which people will matter to you, but--he can't imagine his life without her, now. And he knows he should get used to it, sooner or later, but--he'd rather do it later.

He'll take everything he can get, until he can't get it anymore.

"Where's the new guard?" he asks her, mild. Whenever she slides in next to him at his usual spot in the library, he can't help remembering the first time she did it, five years ago, this bright girl with her hair in neat plaits, asking him what he was reading. She was wearing a plain dress, something like his sister might wear, and no crown, and he'd assumed she was a serving girl who couldn't read herself. He'd been talking to her for half an hour before her guard found her, told her that her mother needed her, and he'd realized with a jolt that he had been joking around with _the princess_.

Even five years later, it's still a little disconcerting.

"Preparing the carriage. I don't want to introduce you yet. But--I think he's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She nudges him with her elbow. "You'll definitely like him. He's quiet and sarcastic and glares at everything."

"That does sound better than most of them. Why don't you want me to meet him?"

"We're leaving for a ball in Azgeda in an hour," she says. "That's what the carriage is for. I'll be gone the rest of the day and tomorrow. If he hates you, I don't have time to get a new guard before then."

He has to smile. "I'm surprised you don't want to get rid of him just to get out of the party," he teases.

"I thought about that, but so did my mother. She said if the new guard was unsatisfactory, she'd just send Sir Emerson to escort me."

Bellamy winces. "So, she's really serious about this one." Threatening Clarke with a trip with his mother's husband is above and beyond, even for the queen.

Clarke worries her lip, drums her fingers on the table, apparently trying to figure out what to say. "My birthday is coming up, and we've been arguing about marriage again. I think she's trying to remind me I could do worse than Monty."

"Prince Roan would be a lot worse," he agrees. "So, I'll see you when you get back?"

"Yeah." Her jaw works, and then she reaches under the table, gives his hand a quick squeeze. "Remember to eat and leave the library sometimes when I'm gone."

"They said they'd put a cot in the corner if I wanted."

"I'm going to veto that."

"Yeah, I didn't even try. Have fun in Azgeda."

"You should be grateful you don't have to go."

He should be, but he's not. He'd love it, if he was just expected to be everywhere Clarke was. If they were a political unit. 

But it's a stupid thing to say, so he just shrugs one shoulder and turns his attention back to his book. "I am," he says. "Bring me back something nice."

*

He hears the carriage returning from Azgeda and the trumpets that mean the princess has returned to the castle, and within an hour, she's in the library. There's a dark-skinned man behind her, and he assumes it's her guard, but he thought her new guardsman was Miller, and he thought he knew Guardsman Miller. They've met a few times, in passing. Bellamy was optimistic about him. With this guy, he's at a loss.

"Who's this?" he asks.

Clarke sits down next to him, close so she can see what he's reading. He angles the book obligingly. "New guard," she says.

"Already? It's been like a week since you got the last one." He's mostly trying to see if she actually lost Miller in Azgeda, but even if this is some unfamiliar Miller, Clarke won't want him to know she sneaked away to gossip with Bellamy about him. She always manages, but they never tell the guards that. It just makes them pay more attention.

"Couldn't keep up with me," she says. "Miller, this is Bellamy Blake, my tutor. Bellamy, be nice. Monty likes him."

Bellamy can't help a scowl, for all he knows it's stupid and irrational. Clarke and Monty do not, on any level, want to get married, so he's not--it's not as if he's _jealous_ , not really. Monty has what Bellamy wants, a promise of marriage to Clarke, but it's not like Monty's happy about it either. No one wants this. But sometimes it still just--stings.

"Oh good," he says. "He can keep on guarding you when you're married." But it's not like this Miller is at fault for any of that, nor is Clarke, or Monty, or anyone. Clarke's supposed to get married on her eighteenth birthday, and he's increasingly grumpy about it with no one to blame. He can still be nice. So he tries a smile. "Nice to meet you, Miller."

It turns out, it really is. This Miller is the other Miller's son, and like Clarke said, he's quiet and glares a lot and Bellamy really enjoys hanging out with him. He doesn't care at all that Bellamy is with Clarke all the time, and when Monty explains what happened with Bellamy's family, in low, private tones, Miller just nods and accepts it, and it changes absolutely nothing. 

And, not that Bellamy's an expert on romance, but he's pretty sure Miller gets what he's going through. Because every time Clarke tells Miller she wants to see Monty, he perks up, and every time Monty's around, Miller actually _smiles_.

"It probably won't be so bad, when they get married," he offers, half to test his hypothesis and half to see if he can say it and sound even slightly convincing. It's probably _true_ ; Monty wouldn't care if Clarke stole out of their bed in the night and-- 

But it would still be _their bed_. And Bellamy cares about that so much more than he wants to. He'd like to think he wouldn't, if Clarke didn't mind, but he honestly doesn't know. And she does mind, so it's a moot point anyway.

Miller snorts. "Yeah? Try it again. Sound more excited."

"Shut up. It won't. Monty's great. And it's not like--I've met some other princes of the realm. She could do a lot worse."

"Way more convincing," says Miller. He's watching Monty, not Clarke, so he's a terrible guard and definitely just as unenthused about this whole thing as Bellamy is. Which makes even less sense, because--this should be good, right? Clarke and Monty can get married, and Monty could have Miller and Clarke could have Bellamy and everyone would be happy.

It's just--it's a lie. And it feels like such a _stupid_ lie. The lie that no one wants. It doesn't benefit any of them.

"Dick. Don't pretend you're happy about it either," he adds, deliberate, testing it out.

Miller's face gives nothing away. "None of my business."

He has to smile. "Yeah. It's none of mine either."

Clarke looks over and gestures for him. "Bellamy! Get over here."

"Duty calls," he tells Miller, and Miller smirks.

"Just warn me when you're going to steal her. So I don't get executed for failing to protect her."

He's thought about it, but--well, they can't. They have a kingdom to take care of. 

"Shut up," he says again, and goes to lean over Clarke's shoulder. She leans back into him, warm and soft and smelling of some light, floral perfume, like she always does.

He could press his lips against her neck, and no one would care. No one here would be surprised, except for Clarke and himself. They'd both be stunned he actually did something.

"What's up?" he asks instead.

"Tell Monty he's wrong about this translation."

"Wow," says Monty. "What an unbiased take on this situation."

He and Miller are perfect for each other, seriously.

"It's not my fault you're wrong. I'm just presenting the facts."

"Uh huh."

Bellamy smiles, nuzzles Clarke's hair, just a little. For a long time, he didn't let himself do things like this, thought it would be easier if they weren't close, if he didn't know the feel of her skin on his. And they've never done anything even as intimate as kissing; he's never done anything with her that he didn't do for his sister, when she was younger, just warmth and affection, but--he knows what it means when he does it to her, and so does she.

She was the one who started it, a year ago, when they were drunk with Raven and Wells in her rooms, when those two were still in the unable-to-stop-touching stage of courtship, and Clarke had finally just wrapped herself around him and said, "I feel left out," and he was helpless to resist holding on tight.

He hadn't been sure before then that she felt the same way he did, but--she made it very obvious. It was a relief and torture, all at once.

"What's the line you're having trouble with?" he asks.

"I'm not having trouble," says Clarke. "I know exactly what it says." She points to a line. "Here."

" _On holiest night, when the moon is at its highest point_ ," he says, instantly, and Clarke laughs.

"See? You're wrong. I didn't even tell him my translation first."

Monty huffs. "It's _Holy Night_ right? Not holiest. A specific day."

"They'd both be specific days, but I don't know if it's supposed to be _our_ holy night," Bellamy says. "Or it might not be. What's the date on this spell? You'd want to figure out what the holiest night was at that time and do it then."

"Told you," says Clarke.

"You know he doesn't actually know everything, right?" Monty grumbles, but he's smiling. "Bellamy can be wrong."

"Do you think he is?" Clarke asks, sweet, and Monty makes a face.

"I'm going to go read with Miller," he declares, and Bellamy slides into the seat next to Clarke. She hesitates for a second, and then takes his hand, and he squeezes back.

"What's the spell for?" he asks.

"Nothing. Just one of Monty's pet projects." She smiles. "I haven't found anything to prevent marriage yet."

"Keep me posted."

Her thumb strokes over his, soft. "I'm pretty sure you'll be the first to know."

*

It's not really true, of course. Bellamy is not involved in any discussions of Clarke's upcoming nuptials, because he has no place in court. If he had an official title, which he's still does not, it would probably be _scholar_. Mostly he's allowed to live in the castle and read, and for the first few years after the scandal with Octavia broke, he couldn't imagine anything better. Teaching the princess, advising her when she needed, and time to himself the rest of the time. It was so perfect.

He hadn't been ambitious. He still doesn't feel ambitious, for all he's hoping to be--a prince consort, he thinks. That would be his title. That's not _why_ he wants her. It's a fringe benefit.

And regardless of his current station, Clarke talks to him about everything, which means he finds things out as soon as she's done learning them, and they discuss what to do, and he's absolutely and without question one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, largely by accident.

So he finds out very promptly, when she's not getting married.

He's in the library, helping reshelve books because the librarian is getting on in years and can't do it so well herself. Bellamy thinks she's hoping he'll take over the position, when she's ready to retire, and he wouldn't mind, assuming he didn't have anything else to do. 

And since Clarke is currently in a meeting with her mother and Monty and a bunch of nobles, he thinks he'll know soon, if he does have something else. This is when he's going to find out if there's a chance, or if they have to figure out how to live with her marrying Monty. It does _feel_ survivable. Especially with Miller. He'd feel bad, if Monty was alone, but he's not going to be, no matter what. He's definitely got Miller.

The only warning he has that Clarke's coming is the start of the librarian saying, "Your hi--" and when he turns to see who came in, he finds himself with his arms full of Clarke, her face buried against his neck.

"Hi," he says, soft, tugging her closer. It feels like she might be crying, and she's holding him so tight. "I honestly can't tell if this is good or bad news. Did you--"

"Our new agreement is that I have to marry an untitled Arcadian," she says, and he shivers at the press of her lips against his shoulder. "To make sure we aren't dissolving this alliance for a more advantageous one. So, if you're not spoken for--"

He lets out a sharp, bright laugh. "I'm spoken for," he teases. "You know I'm spoken for."

"I do." She pulls back to look at him, and she's a little teary, but smiling, beaming, lighting up the whole world. "Will you marry me?"

He catches her jaw with his hand and tilts her face up, lets himself savor the second where her eyes flutter shut in anticipation, and then he finally-- _finally_ \--kisses her. Her lips are soft and already slightly parted, and he tastes it when her mouth turns up in a smile, just for a second, before she presses closer, kisses him back, fingers tangling in his hair. She's not the first person he's kissed, and he knows he's not the first person he's kissed either, but it's never been like this before, because he's never been in love with anyone but her.

He's not sure how long it goes, that first kiss, but every time he thinks about pulling back, she'll make a noise, or her fingers will twist in his hair, and he doesn't know how. They won't get married until her birthday, which is another month, and he's not concerned it's going to be that long before he gets to do this again, but--they've been waiting for so long. They deserve something nice.

Miller's the one who finally says, "If the princess dies from lack of oxygen, I'm the one they're going to punish."

Clarke tugs his lip gently with her teeth and then pulls back, her smile still blinding. His own expression must be ridiculous, but he doesn't care.

He gets to marry the girl he loves. He gets to just--love her. He doesn't have to worry about it anymore.

"You know you can breathe and kiss someone at the same time, right?" Clarke asks Miller, leaning against Bellamy's chest. "But thanks for looking out for me."

"That's my job, right?" asks Miller, and then his eyes flick to Bellamy with a smile. "For the next month, anyway."

"I never said I was marrying her," Bellamy points out, and Clarke elbows him. He kisses her hair. "But I am, yeah. I've got her."

*

"I think I need a guard," Monty tells them, a week before the wedding.

"Why?" asks Clarke.

"I'm a prince. I'm important. And you're probably going to get a new entourage, right?"

"Probably," she agrees, glancing at Bellamy. "You're going to be the prince consort, I don't think anyone can disrespect you for your heritage."

"If they do, I can have them killed, right?"

"Yeah, that's the sign of a good ruler."

Bellamy turns his attention to Monty. "So, you want Clarke's guard?"

"Desperately," Monty says. "I didn't get to marry the princess, so I should get something, right?"

"You didn't want to marry me," Clarke teases. 

"No, definitely not. But still."

"Yeah," says Bellamy. "I think we can work something out."

And, he has to say, it's a much better arrangement than he thought he'd get.

Honestly, it's perfect.


	3. Mutual - Bellamy POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9411845)!

Not to brag, but Bellamy's pretty good with celebrities.

He grew up in Los Angeles and started working shitty retail jobs basically as soon as he was legally able to do so, which means that he started encountering beautiful, famous people pretty early on. He's not immune to the occasional bout of hero-worship--one time Harrison Ford came into a restaurant he was working out and he had to go out back to have a private freak-out--but for the most part, it doesn't faze him. At best, he gets a kind of fun story, and at worst, he finds a person whose work he enjoyed is actually a dick. But mostly, it's just another thing. He's used to it. Not a big deal at all.

But, seriously, he _likes_ Clarke Griffin. Not on any deep personal level, but she's gorgeous, and currently starring in his favorite show, and she talks a lot about bisexuality and representation and seems generally pretty cool, whenever he encounters her in interviews or gifsets. As a person, she seems more serious than her character in _Goredd_ , always self-conscious about how she comes across, but--it's kind of endearing, honestly.

And, again. She's _really_ gorgeous.

He's sad. It's fine. He's leaning into it.

All of which means that Clarke Griffin wandering into his store one rainy afternoon is kind of a crisis, but not nearly as much of one as it could be. Because, again, he's good with celebrities. Even his current celebrity crush. Even his current celebrity crush who is wet and kind of scowling and--wow, she's _cute_ in person. In addition to beautiful and--yeah.

Stay on track, Blake.

When her gaze hits him, he cocks his head and gives her a wry smile. It's hard to be completely professional when she looks grumpy and half-drowned. Celebrities: they're just like us.

"Hi," he says. "Can I help you?"

"Umbrellas?" she asks, sounding hopeful.

"Stand in the back." She looks around, like she's not sure what he means by _the back_ , and it's not like he's doing anything else. "Right this way," he says, slipping out from behind the counter and leading her to the small rack of umbrellas. It's not the kind of thing that requires additional interaction, but--it's _Clarke Griffin_. She's a few inches shorter than he is, and her hair's pulled back in a neat braid. She's dressed well without seeming particularly stylish, just a grayish henley and jeans, and she looks older than twenty-four, and tired.

He's never going to see her again; he might as well make conversation.

"I'm resisting the urge to ask if it's really coming down out there, but that really feels like what I should be saying," he says, because he never claimed to be _good_ at conversation. "Social conditioning."

She lets out a small huff of a laugh, almost reluctant. "I can confirm it's really coming down out there."

"I knew it." He stops by the umbrellas and waves at them vaguely. "All the umbrellas you can eat."

"How many umbrellas do people usually eat?"

She's looking more amused by the second, so he figures he can lean into it. "You know, that's the kind of thing I don't ask, as a professional. What my customers do with their umbrellas in the privacy of their own home is their business."

This time, her smile is real and bright, with a flash of white teeth, and his stupid stomach flips. It's not like he's _bad_ with people, but his sense of humor is kind of--well, his sister tells him it's terrible and embarrassing. And he knows a lot of the time he just scrapes by on his looks, in term of charm, and his looks definitely aren't going to impress _Clarke Griffin_ , so he's amusing her on his own merits. Which is _awesome_. He's the best. 

"I'm glad this isn't the kind of establishment that judges people's umbrella habits," she teases.

"Safe space. Anything else?"

"Do you have hot drinks?"

He thinks it over. "Not very good ones, but if you're desperate we have shitty coffee and Lipton tea."

"You're not a very good salesman," she says, still smiling.

He shrugs. "It's really cheap, so at least there's that. You get what you pay for." He'd like her to stick around, but honesty and recognition of just how shitty their coffee is compels him to add, "You can also take your new umbrella to the coffee shop down the street."

"Which do you recommend?"

"How hard is it raining?" he asks, after an appropriate pause.

She actually laughs, looks about as surprised by the sound as he is. "I'll risk it," she says, and he assumes she means the coffee shop, but then she adds, "I think shitty coffee is better. I assume if I put enough milk and sugar in it, it'll taste like milk and sugar."

"You would think that, but I'm not convinced." He wets his lips, not sure where to go from here. He has no reason to talk to Clarke Griffin. He's done his part in this. More than his part, even. It's a nice celebrity encounter. "Uh, coffee's right over here," he says. "Feel free to do whatever you can to make it drinkable."

He goes back to the register and pulls out his phone, mostly so he won't try to talk to her or anything stupid like that. 

**Me** : Clarke Griffin is here  
Just so teenage you can be jealous

**Octavia** : yeah, pretend this is about teenage me  
how embarrassing are you being?  
scale from 1-10

**Me** : I'm being cool  
Shut up

**Octavia** : what part of your body did u ask her to sign  
was it just one  
how much of your body is signed  
is there any clean skin left

**Me** : I'm at work  
I'm a professional  
I'll just save her receipt

Clarke comes over to the register and slides him her coffee and the umbrella. He rings her up and she pays with cash, so no credit-card receipt, but it's not like he really minds. She hangs out checking her phone and sipping her coffee, and she gives him a smile before she leaves, so--yeah.

He's _awesome_ with celebrities.

*

He's not planning to mention the encounter to Marie, largely because he doesn't know what he'd say about it to Marie. Marie is a generally confusing and difficult part of his life, because, well, he _likes_ Marie, in a way he wasn't really prepared for. He got on tumblr back when O went off to college and decided that was going to be her social media platform, and he'd only ever planned to interact with her there. Which wasn't even a good plan, because basically all Octavia does on tumblr is reblog weird aesthetic stuff and memes from Denny's, at least on the tumblr she's telling him about, so it wasn't like he really learned much about her life. He just kind of started blogging about TV shows he likes and complaining about things and stumbled into tumblr culture, basically entirely by accident. But for all he's kind of involved in fandom on bb-hate, and has a surprising number of followers and fans on hollywood-histories, he doesn't really have a lot of _friends_ on tumblr.

Marie was unexpected, and he still feels like he doesn't know what to do with her. He talks to her more than he talks to anyone he knows, aside from possibly Miller and his sister, and he feels like he knows her pretty well.

More than that, he feels like he'd like to know her better, and he's still not sure how to do that. But telling her he's still buzzing from seeing a cute celebrity definitely feels like the wrong way to handle it. 

So, of course, that's one of the days she _asks_.

**touched-the-sky** : Any celebrities today?

He thinks about lying, but--that would be a dick move, right? And what's the point of _lying_? People have celebrity crushes. They definitely have talked about all kinds of both celebrities and hot people before, so there's no reason he can't mention this one. She probably thinks Clarke Griffin is hot too. She generally has good taste.

**bb-hate** : Clarke Griffin

**touched-the-sky** : From the dragon show, right?

**bb-hate** : yeah  
she got caught in the rain and needed an umbrella  
I was incredibly cool about it  
I'm pretty sure she has no idea I've got a huge thing for her

It feels a little stupid to add, but Miller and Octavia don't like women and don't want to gossip with him, or would just mock him, so Marie is definitely his best option.

And maybe she'll get jealous. He wouldn't mind if she did. It would probably help him deal with his stupid feelings.

**touched-the-sky** : Definitely not  
I'm sure you were very subtle

**bb-hate** : your sarcasm is not appreciated  
I'm great with celebrities  
she stuck around to drink her coffee so I couldn't have been that bad  
do you watch that show?

**touched-the-sky** : Not religiously

**bb-hate** : I'm just saying, she's even hotter in person  
and she laughed at my shitty self-deprecating humor, so we're probably getting married

**touched-the-sky** : I'm happy for you

There's a lull in the conversation, and he's hoping, a little bit, that she _is_ jealous, because if she was it would make him feel a lot better about his life if she was. 

**touched-the-sky** : You know, usually you don't objectify the celebrities  
Is Clarke Griffin really hotter than a Jonas Brother?

**bb-hate** : have you ever seen a picture of Clarke Griffin?  
or a Jonas Brother?  
seriously, no comparison

He hesitates for a second, but--he met _Clarke Griffin_ , and she's cool and pretty and he made her _laugh_ , and someone should definitely appreciate how great that is. Marie remains his best bet.

**bb-hate** : but, yeah  
she seems cool  
my sister was really into her when she was trying to have a musical career  
and I saw all these interviews where she turned from, like  
privileged white girl who thought her bisexuality meant she was oppressed  
to actually informed feminist who cares about intersectionality  
and she's cute  
uh yeah anyway  
that was your Clarke Griffin aside  
how was your day?

**touched-the-sky** : Surprisingly good  
Got kind of soaked, but yeah  
Really good

**bb-hate** : yeah?  
what happened?

**touched-the-sky** : Had an important work meeting  
Went well  
I dunno, just kind of a good feeling  
I think stuff is going my way

**bb-hate** : cool  
I hope so

**touched-the-sky** : Yeah  
Me too

*

Bellamy has a few regulars at the store. There are the people who make him feel guilty, the ones who come in every day after work to buy lottery tickets and cigarettes, and make him want to take them aside and explain how much of a scam these things are. There are the ones who come in for frozen meals, the lady who is hung over ever Saturday morning and comes in for shitty coffee and one of their awful breakfast burritos, the guy who says they're the only place who carries his favorite candy bar.

And then, suddenly, there's Clarke Griffin.

She comes in for the second time four days after the first. It's the same time of day, so maybe she knows someone in the area. There are some agents around, some gyms, some places that definitely could be destinations, even for someone like her.

She picks up an Arizona green tea, a bag of popcorn, and one of their sudoku books.

"You know a sudoku app is actually cheaper, right?" he asks. Most of his conversation starters are about money, which is unfortunate, because Clarke Griffin can afford to buy whatever she feels like. She doesn't need to worry about budgets.

"I like having to keep track of the numbers myself," she says. "The phone feels like cheating."

"Yeah, okay, I can see that, I guess," he says, and she thanks him and takes off.

A week after that, she gets a peanut butter Twix, and five days after that, she asks if they have batteries.

"Yeah, next to the umbrellas," he tells her, and wonders if she actually remembers he's the same guy who helped her before.

She remembers where the umbrellas are, at least. But she probably doesn't know exactly how many times she's been in the store while he's working. She's the celebrity, he's just the help. Even non-famous people tend to see employees as part of the decoration.

Three days later she buys another pack of batteries, another tea, and another sudoku book.

"Already done with the first one?" he asks.

"I have a lot of downtime at my job," she says. "I assume you can relate."

It's nice that she doesn't act like he should know who she is, and kind of cute that she's comparing time off between takes to working at a convenience store. He's pretty confident their jobs have nothing in common, but he appreciates her pretending.

"Yeah, but I cheat and use my phone," he says, and she smiles.

"So, I'm definitely better at sudoku than you are."

"No question." He gives her her change. "Have a good day."

"Thanks, you too."

The next time she comes in, he isn't expecting her at all. It's 10:47 on a Friday night, and he's so bored that time feels like it's going backward. He just wants to close up, go home, and hear about whatever shitty movie Marie's decided to watch. It's just what he needs. He's had a long week, and it's not even over yet. The distraction sounds perfect.

When the bell chimes, he almost groans, but then he sees it's Clarke, and he manages a smile, even through his confusion. It's almost eleven; she's never been in so late. He has no idea what she'd be doing in this neighborhood at this time of night.

It would be weird if he offered to walk her to her car, right? But--she might get mugged. He'd feel bad.

Only one way to find out. He gives her a smile when she gets to the counter and says, "Hi, need help finding anything?"

Weirdly, she looks anxious. He can see her swallow, close her eyes, and take a breath. "No," she says. Her eyes lock on his. "I just--I don't really like watching movies alone."

Maybe she's drunk. She seems pretty coherent, but--he has no idea what she's talking about, so _something_ must be up. Maybe she's on one of those drugs he's not famous enough to have access to. That's probably a thing. "Uh, okay. Sorry about that?" he offers.

Clarke nods, like she's making up her mind about something. "And it's not really the same doing it online, like--I like talking to you on tumblr, but I think it would be a lot more fun in person, you know?"

Bellamy's brain basically just--stops. For a second. He doesn't talk to many people on tumblr, especially not about watching movies. There's only one person like that, in fact.

She's smiling at him, fond and shy all at once. "I bet you get really annoyed and yell at the TV and everything," she continues, and he tries to figure out a response, but the words aren't coming. He just swallows, and Clarke's smile grows. "I don't really know what the protocol is for revealing your secret internet identity, but--hi? I'm touched-the-sky on tumblr. I'm a big fan of yours."

He finally gets his voice working enough to croak, "Marie?"

She blushes a little, and some separate part of Bellamy's brain feels kind of smug that he's making _Clarke Griffin_ blush. Clarke Griffin is totally self-conscious. Because of _him_.

"My middle name," she explains, like that was his question. "Clarke Marie Griffin. It was easy to remember."

"I--" he starts, but he doesn't actually know what to say yet. Clarke Griffin is his internet friend. Clarke Griffin is the girl he's been kind of developing a thing for, and she's somehow been coming into his store just to see him, probably. 

Which at least gives him something to say. "How?"

She bites her lip, expression caught between pride and embarrassment. "Luck? I don't know, I liked your blog, I wanted to talk to you. Real life, I found you totally by accident. I was kind of looking, though," she adds. "Just, you know. Paying a lot of attention to guys who worked at convenience stores."

Clarke Griffin likes his blog, cares about his opinions, thinks his dorky sense of humor is funny, and was looking for him in convenience stores. Maybe every time she asked him if he'd seen any celebrities, it was because she'd seen someone who could be him and wanted to check. That could actually be a _thing_.

He shakes his head, bringing his brain back to the task at hand. "Okay, so--what are you doing here?"

"Making friends?" she says, but immediately rethinks it. "No, scratch that. I really like you, so--"

_Making friends_ was already a way better answer than he thought he'd get, because-- _Clarke Griffin_ wants to be his friend. But apparently she-- "Wait, are you asking me out?" he asks, flabbergasted. 

Would she notice if he pinched himself? She'd probably get it. She has to understand how fucking surreal this is.

"Yeah, that would probably would have been a better way to do this," she says, flushing. "Sorry if that's weird."

He barks out a laugh, and he can see her relax. "Uh, yeah," he teases. "It's incredibly weird. This is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me." Which still feels like an understatement. Marie's here, and she's asking him out, and she's a gorgeous, famous celebrity who wants to hang out and watch bad movies on Netflix with him. Nothing is ever going to be this weird again in his entire life, he's pretty sure. Half of him is still expecting this to be some elaborate prank. "I didn't want to be an asshole about asking you where in California you lived or--anything," he finally admits. "But I really wanted to know." She grins, and it's just--way too much. "Fuck. I really wasn't expecting this."

"Sorry I didn't tell you earlier," she offers, sounding like she really means it. "It wasn't supposed to be a thing. I just wanted--something for myself, I guess. Somewhere no one knew who I was and I could just--have fun."

He laughs. "You know, when I think about Hollywood stars trying to live normal lives, tumblr's never been involved."

"Don't blame me for your lack of imagination," she shoots back, and it's just--it's _her_. It's just like talking to Marie, just live and in person.

And a celebrity.

"Jesus," he breathes. "It really is you."

"That's why I came down. I was pretty sure you weren't going to believe me if I just told you online that I was Clarke Griffin."

"I barely believe you now," he says, dry. She smiles, and he'd say he has no idea what to do, but he knows exactly what he wants. Clarke is right here, and is Marie, and she wants to go out with him. It's so obvious what he should be doing.

Except he's at work. He checks his phone, finds it's only 10:56, not even closing time yet. His entire life has been upended, and it's only been ten fucking minutes. "It's, uh--I'm pretty sure no one's going to know if I close up four minutes early, so--" He slides out from behind the counter so he can lock the door and flip the sign, but he still needs another second before he can just--go over there. She's a few inches shorter than he is, and she's smiling up at him, leaning in because she somehow, for some reason, wants to _kiss him_. "Clarke," he breathes, and then cracks the moment open when he laughs. "Shit, you're _Clarke Griffin_ ," he adds, like she doesn't know.

She rolls her eyes, but looks amused. "Yeah, and we could be making out if you just got over it. I'm Clarke Griffin. You're Bellamy--whatever your last name is. Nice to meet you in person."

"Blake. Bellamy Blake," he tells her.

And then he kisses Clarke Griffin, and she doesn't seem to mind at all.

*

"So, did you seriously ask me if I'd seen a celebrity every time you went into a convenience store?"

"Not every time," Clarke protests. She sitting on her couch with her legs tucked under her, wearing a nightshirt and nothing else, and it still doesn't feel real, whatever's happening. He's fucked Clarke Griffin, and woken up with her in his arms, and now he's in her apartment, drinking her coffee, thinking about calling into work for once in his life. He's earned it, right? He's got a new celebrity girlfriend, he's so justified.

He sits down next to her, and she snuggles into him. There's no way he's going into work. Not at all.

"How many times?" he asks.

"Like three? Just when I went somewhere with a male employee around your age who looked like he might be biracial," she says. She worries her lip. "I was really hoping it was you, though. The time that it was. Not to be shallow, but--you were hot, so I wanted you to be--you." She makes a face. "This is really confusing to talk about."

He grins. "You think I'm hot, huh?"

"I figured the way I dragged you home to fuck you within an hour of meeting you was a tip-off."

"You knew it was me for weeks," he points out. "And you weren't fucking me then."

"No, but--I wanted to be. Once I found out it was you."

"Romantic," he says, and leans down to kiss her again. It's supposed to be quick, but she sets her coffee aside and slides into his lap, so it's hard to care about stopping.

"Seriously, you're really hot," she murmurs, trailing her fingers up his sides. "I can't believe I got this lucky."

" _You_ can't believe you got this lucky?" he teases. "Which one of us is dating the actual movie star?" He freezes, realizing. "Uh, assuming we're dating."

Clarke laughs and nuzzles his jaw. "I'm more of a TV star, but, yeah. We're definitely dating." She pauses. "But dating a celebrity isn't really that great, honestly. It sounds cool, but you have to go to events and the press will want to talk to you, and--"

"And I get to date you," he points out. "So--I'll live."

"I'm just saying, I'm pretty sure dating Clarke Griffin isn't as great as some of my fans think it is."

"Maybe not. But dating Clarke _Marie_ Griffin is going to be fucking awesome."

"That does sound pretty awesome," she agrees. She slides off his lap, picking up her coffee and finding the remote. "You know, we never actually watched that shitty movie last night. You in?"

One sick day. He can afford one sick day. It's worth it. "I'm in," he says. "Do your worst."


	4. It Varies From Season to Season, Kid - Clarke POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9575222)!

It was probably stupid, to agree to crash with Bellamy in Vancouver, but if Clarke is going to get started with stupid decisions she's made in the whole _Queen's Thief_ project, she's not sure crashing with Bellamy is really the place to start. 

Probably she should start with the Alice-and-James episode of _Marauders_ when she was sixteen, the first time she and Bellamy really worked together, when she realized he wasn't actually just hot, he was intelligent and sarcastic and perpetually grumpy, a great actor who took his job seriously but also made sure to text his baby sister every time they had a lull in filming. And they worked really well together, well enough to make her sad they didn't do it more often. But it wasn't--it was a crush, and it was a crush that lingered until the show ended, and popped back up when they'd run into each other again. Bellamy would keep on being awesome, and Clarke would keep on wondering what he'd say if she asked him to make out. It was a pretty good system, as far as she was concerned.

She'd nearly had a heart attack when he texted her out of nowhere, and her next stupid choice was probably agreeing to help him with the show, but--she liked the books, she liked the project, and she needed something to do. It was completely and totally the right choice for her career and her own mental well-being. 

It's just stupid, because she's definitely falling in love with Bellamy, and she absolutely shouldn't be in his apartment in the morning, making her way to his kitchen in her pajamas, feeling close and intimate and far too much.

And that's before she sees him at the coffee machine, in his own flannel pants and a faded Batman t-shirt, before he turns and says, "Morning," in a rough, deep voice.

This is absolutely the stupidest thing she's ever done. Not even close.

"Coffee in a few minutes," he adds, pushing his glasses up when they slide down his nose, and that at least distracts her. She hasn't seen him in his glasses in _years_. She wasn't sure she was ever going to again.

"Wait, you really wear glasses?" she asks, delighted. "I thought that was a James Potter thing."

He adjusts them again, flushing a little. "No, they're mine. I usually wear contacts, but if I put them in before coffee I'd probably lose an eye."

"Hey, don't rush on my account," she teases. He looks _so good_ in the morning, it should be illegal. People aren't supposed to look like that when they just rolled out of bed. He's soft and warm and the tangle of his hair looks so soft and perfect. "I like them," she continues, and can't help adding, "So, you really don't sleep shirtless, huh?"

He raises his eyebrows at her. "Neither do you."

"I figured I should make myself presentable for company," she says, prim. It's mostly true; she sleeps naked at home, but she always feels awkward doing it when she's staying with someone else. So she slept in her pajamas and it took forever to drift off, less because she was unaccustomed to wearing clothes and more because she was aware of being in Bellamy's space, aware of how close he was and how easy it would be to go to his room.

Which probably is why she goes to stand next to him at the coffee machine; if they're going to be close, she wants to be _close_. She'll be back in LA soon, and she's going to miss him so much. 

"Oh, trust me," he says, with a friendly leer. "I think shirtless people are always presentable."

"Maybe tomorrow," she says, bumping her hip against his. Normal friend stuff, definitely. This is what people do. "What do you have for breakfast?"

"Not much, sorry. I haven't had time to go shopping this week."

"The busy life of the Hollywood A-lister," she teases, and he snorts.

"I don't think any of the Hollywood A-listers live in Vancouver. This is basically B-list Hollywood." The coffee finishes, and he grabs two mugs, adds sugar and milk for both of them. "I might have cereal? And eggs? We can go out."

"Aren't you a good cook or something?"

"I never said I was cooking for you," he says. "You were just assuming. I usually eat at craft services."

"You're not even supposed to be on set for hours."

"I go in early."

"Well, you have guests," she says, and pushes herself off the counter so she can look in his fridge. "I can make eggs."

"You know how to make eggs?"

He sounds way too dubious, and she scowls over her shoulder. "Eggs are easy, Bellamy. Anyone can make eggs."

"Tell me how you think you make eggs. Before I let you near my stove. Or my fridge. Basically anything I own."

"You can supervise," she says, without thinking about it, and of course he does, and it is, honestly, the most embarrassingly domestic shit. And they do it _every time_ Clarke visits, and it's so fucking easy that she feels like she shouldn't even go back home. Not when she could be with him.

"You know you could talk to him, right?" Wells asks. It's two days before Thanksgiving, and Clarke might be moping a little. She was hoping Bellamy would be back in LA, but his sister's family decided to go to him instead, and she felt like it would be weird to invite herself along. Plus, her mom would be upset. But mostly--weird.

"I talk to him all the time," she tells him. "We're in constant contact."

"I meant about this," says Wells. "You're an adult. Adults talk about their feelings. You'd feel better."

"That sounds like something someone who's happily in a relationship would say," she grumbles.

"How do you think I got into a happy relationship? I talked to Maya and told her I was interested and she was too and now we're dating. That's how it's supposed to go. That's how it would go with you and Bellamy."

"You think?" she asks, and hates herself for how hopeful she sounds. Then again, she's talking about the equivalent of a high-school crush. So she's probably not supposed to feel mature about it. "Scratch that. It's not important. I'm not going to talk to him about it because we're working together, and the show's more important."

"It's really not." He squeezes her shoulder. "And even if it was, you could still work with him, right? And if you couldn't, you don't need to work with him this much. You don't have to be as involved in the show as you are."

This is, of course, completely true, but it doesn't make Clarke feel better. She _likes_ being way too involved in the show. She loves her job.

It's just that her feelings for Bellamy are heavily involved in that love. She loves that it's _theirs_.

"Maybe we won't get a season two," she offers. "Then it won't be an issue."

"Sure, if you want. But I saw that video of you two at the upfronts," he adds, unimpressed. "I'm pretty sure it's not an issue either way."

*

"You must be Clarke!"

Clarke recognizes Bellamy's sister and her family from Bellamy's ten-thousand pictures of them, and just like in those pictures, they feel intimidatingly perfect and vaguely unreal. Which she knows is a weird way to feel for someone who works in the entertainment business, but--Octavia Blake really _has_ the life they're always working on selling. She's a young, beautiful woman with a perfect husband, an adorable child, and a doing older brother.

Clarke isn't jealous of her, not exactly, but she's a little intimidated. Octavia Blake seems to know exactly who she is and what she wants, and, unlike Clarke, she actually _has_ it.

"What, I don't even get a hello?" Bellamy asks, but he can't keep the smile out of his voice. "Clarke, my sister Octavia, her husband Lincoln, and--where's the baby?"

"Asleep, so you can't hold her yet, weirdo," says Octavia. She gives Bellamy a hug, and then hesitates for half a second before giving Clarke one too. "It's so great to finally meet you!"

"You too," says Clarke. "Thanks for inviting me."

"I've been telling him to bring you over, like, every time he's been in LA for months."

"We've been busy," Bellamy grumbles, like he isn't grinning ear to ear. "You want to meet the dog, right? She's the real draw."

"Obviously. I see humans all the time."

The dog is an enthusiastic bundle of energy that looks like some sort of collie mix, and she is very, very excited to make a new friend in Clarke. They have a billion toys for her, and Clarke is happy to be on frisbee duty, both to get out of interacting with the baby, and--far more importantly--to get out of seeing Bellamy interact with the baby. He's nothing but big smile and careful attention when it comes to his niece, and Clarke does not need to see that. It's actively bad for her.

They have a picnic lunch, because, again, this is the _most wholesome shit_ , and once they're done, Kira wanders around in the grass with Bellamy and Lincoln supervising, Clarke goes to play with the dog, and Octavia comes to talk to her.

Which she was expecting. She's not nervous.

"How's the show going?" she asks.

Clarke smiles. "Great. I assume Bellamy doesn't shut up about it."

"Not on the phone, but as soon as he's actually here all he can think about is the baby."

"Yeah, she's going to be the most spoiled kid in the world if he has his way," she says, unable to keep a fond smile off her face.

"I'm pretty sure that's Bell's actual dream," Octavia muses. "Having enough money to just give everyone in the world he loves everything they want."

"No," Clarke says, without thinking. "Not _everything_. He cares too much about--not to sound like a dick, but Bellamy _actually_ knows the value of hard work. He wants her to have enough, not to have it all."

Octavia hums, and Clarke realizes that was absolutely a weird thing to say. Just because she's pretty sure it's true, doesn't mean it's not weird.

"But she's going to have the best Christmases and birthdays ever," she adds quickly, before Octavia can say anything else. "That's for sure."

"And you haven't even seen what's under our Christmas tree yet." Her smile is a little too sly and knowing for Clarke's comfort, but it's not like she was really expecting to _hide_ her massive crush from Octavia. It's enough of a miracle she's apparently hiding it from Bellamy. "You're coming, right? For Christmas Eve. Bell said he invited you."

"If you're sure," she says. "It's Kira's first Christmas, right? I don't want to--it's a family thing."

"Yup," Octavia agrees, bright. "So you're definitely coming."

She's the most obvious person in the world. "Yeah. I'll be there."

Bellamy comes and picks her up for Christmas Eve, and they have a nice dinner and end up getting talked into staying the night. Bellamy makes her take the guest room while he crashes on the couch, and she has to stop herself at least three times from going out and dragging him back to share with her before she finally drifts off.

Kira has about fifty billion presents in the morning, and Clarke watches Octavia and Lincoln help her open them while she sits next to Bellamy on the couch, warm and close and so perfect it makes her heart ache. This is what she wants. Everything else is a bonus.

They do hugs all around before they take off, and Octavia gives Clarke an extra-tight squeeze and says, "So, same time next year?"

It feels so dangerous. But all she can say is, "Yeah. Can't wait."

*

Boston sucks.

Okay, it's not _Boston_ , Boston didn't do anything wrong. It's not Boston's fault. It's just that Bellamy is finally back in LA now that the first season has wrapped, and Clarke could be there with him, getting started on the second season they don't even have yet, and instead she's actually farther away from him, in a different timezone, and they have enough trouble coordinating just watching the show together, let alone anything else.

So when she gets a call from the network a week before they're set to wrap filming to tell her they've decided to pick up the show and will be sending her paperwork for her and Bellamy on Monday, she figures--that's the kind of news she should share in person, right? They don't need her on-set for the last week. They'll be fine.

It's less than twenty-four hours before she's on his doorstep, shifting from one foot to the other, giddy with excitement about getting to see him and getting to share the news.

So, of course, her phone buzzes, and she's incapable of not checking it. Maybe the old people are right, and modern technology really is ruining everything. This is a big moment, and she's probably going to be distracted by putting out some fire across the country.

**Bellamy** : Why is someone at my house?

Then again, maybe not.

**Me** : I don't know why you think I'd know  
Are they in your house?  
Call the police if you're about to be stabbed

**Bellamy** : Doorbell  
I never get visitors

**Me** : Dial 9-1-1 so you're ready to hit send if it's someone who wants to murder you

**Bellamy** : Thanks

**Me** : Life hack

She hits the doorbell one more time for good measure, and he answers a second later. He clearly wasn't expecting visitors, because he's wearing his Hufflepuff pajama pants, a Schuyler sisters t-shirt, and his glasses, with a good two days of stubble, staring at her in open disbelief.

Clarke loves him so much it's unreal.

"Did you know I am actually the best producer in the world?" she asks. "Because I got us picked up for another season. Already. So any time you want to--"

She just sees the flash of his smile for a second, and then his hands are cupping her face and his mouth is on hers, warm and solid and perfect. At first, she can't even respond, too busy trying to catalog everything: the feel of his thumb against her jaw, the lingering flavor of his toothpaste, the slight tremor in his hands like he's nervous this isn't okay. 

And then she's grinning into it, guiding him inside without breaking the contact, pushing his door closed with her foot. He doesn't waste any time, trapping her up against it and sliding his tongue against her lips until she opens for him, and it's so, so good, it's everything she wanted--

Except she needs to be _sure_.

He slides away, pressing kisses down her jaw to her throat, and her breath comes out rough and shaky. She could fuck him first, right? Even if he's just happy they got renewed, there's nothing wrong with a quick celebratory bang with the guy you're in love with.

"If I knew I just had to get the show renewed for you to make a move, I would have worked harder on it," she manages. It feels safe.

He gives her a gentle bite where her jaw meets her neck. "It was the leaving for two months. Fuck, I missed you."

She lets out a relieved laugh, but it's not quite all the way there. "As long as it's not just enthusiasm for the second season. Maybe you do this to all your producers."

Bellamy must hear it too, because he pulls back, giving her a soft, warm smile. "I've been trying to figure out how to tell you how I feel for--way too long. You getting back was my deadline. I was going to try to come up with a speech."

She kind of collapses into his arms, which would be embarrassing, but he doesn't seem to care. Honestly, he seems just as relieved as she does to have it cleared up, nuzzling and kissing her hair, rubbing her back, just holding onto her too.

_Obvious_ is probably kind of relative. That's what everyone's been telling her. It wasn't obvious to _them_.

She kisses his shoulder. "That was weird, right? I made it weird."

He laughs. "You do keep telling me you suck at personal relationships. I should have believed you." This kiss is softer, warmer, less raw passion. Which is fine. She _likes_ passion, of course. But she's pretty sure they can have hot, desperate teenage make-out sessions once they're done with feelings. "I don't mind establishing that I'm in love with you," he says, mouth quirking into a smile. "I definitely am. I was planning to lead with that."

Her life is _awesome_. "I had a crush on you when I was _sixteen_ ," she admits, laughing into his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"You were hot! You were my go-to _yes, I'm definitely into guys_ guy for like five years. Not that I--" she can't help adding. "I got over it. For a while. I wasn't weirdly pining or anything."

"Glad you stopped getting over it," he says, and Clarke really has to agree.

*

She's on their couch with her feet in Bellamy's lap while he plays some weird imported Japanese RPG Monty recommended when she gets the call about the third season. She gestures for him to mute the game.

"Hey, Roan."

"Clarke. How's the boyfriend?"

"Unshaven, unshowered, generally a giant nerd. How are you?"

"Much the same, although something less of a nerd. And my beard is both richer and more deliberate than his."

Clarke didn't sell the show to Roan just because they're sort of weird friends, but it was definitely a connection she mercilessly leveraged. It helps that he _likes_ the show, of course. But she's also awesome at networking.

"If your jawline was as good as his, you wouldn't want to hide it either."

"Yes, I'm sure that's it and not just that he's unable to grow real facial hair."

"Miller grows out his beard every hiatus just so he'll be jealous, yeah." Bellamy raises his eyebrows, and Clarke just grins. "Did you have something to say, or do you just want to talk shit about my boyfriend?"

"Both. We're giving you the third season. Be prepared for a lot of fights about how much you're allowed to focus on Costis."

"I've already got an actor lined up for him. John Murphy. I promise we're going to make it work."

"I believe you. That's why you're renewed. Paperwork on Monday, official announcement in a month. Tell Bellamy congratulations."

"Will do. Later, Roan."

"That sounded friendly," says Bellamy, careful. "I assume that means good news."

"Third season," she says, climbing into his lap for a long kiss. "And you already confessed your love after the first renewal, so I don't know how you're going to top that."

He doesn't miss a beat. "I've got a ring in the dresser. If Roan had warned me, I would have had it ready, but--"

"Seriously?" Clarke asks.

His shrug isn't as fluid as he wants, and he's not looking at her. "If you want. If you don't, it's not--"

She kisses him again, warm and deep and joyful, and he tugs her closer. "You know you don't have to time all of our relationship milestones with the show, right?" she teases.

"I know. But we might as well do it for as long as we can, right?"

She laughs. "We definitely can't coordinate the wedding with a fourth season pickup."

"Nah. But I bet we can figure something out."

"Yeah," she agrees. "No problem."


	5. I'm Sure of All the Things We Got - Bellamy POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10317023)!

"This is a really bad idea," says Miller.

Bellamy sighs, looking down at the glove compartment, as if it has answers for him. "It's not really an _idea_. That's kind of the point of an accidental pregnancies. If it was an idea, it wouldn't be accidental."

"I'm not talking about the baby. I get that. Of course you're taking the kid. But--you should be moving the fuck out of that apartment."

It's not a new conversation. Miller thought it was a bad idea when he and Clarke moved in together, and he's only thought it was a worse and worse idea the longer it goes. Which is, honestly, probably correct. The longer Bellamy lives with Clarke, the less he wants to ever live with anyone else, and at some point, he's going to have to examine that.

Miller's probably right. Now would be the time to do that. It is genuinely stupid to be planning to raise a child while he's living with Clarke, because Clarke doesn't know how to not get involved in things. If there's a baby in the apartment, Clarke is going to help with the baby. It's going to be _their baby_ , whether they intend for it to be or not. 

"Either you tell her you're into her," Miller says, not for the first time. "Or you move on. Raising a kid with her is the opposite of moving on."

"I'm going to tell her. Seriously, I am," he adds, before Miller can protest. "But it's not time yet."

"Uh huh. It's been, what, two years?"

Bellamy leans back, closing his eyes and thinking it over. He spent a long time not being in love with Clarke, as a deliberate, conscious choice. He put serious effort into not having a thing for her in college, when they didn't get along, and then once they started, he thought it was going to go somewhere. But then she took off for Italy, and he got a girlfriend while she was gone, and then she had a girlfriend by the time he and Roma broke up, and it was just--she was his best friend, and it felt like the timing would never be right for anything more. So he didn't have feelings for her. He just didn't. He kept telling himself that he didn't.

"About that, yeah," he agrees. That was when he gave up and admitted that he wasn't going to get over Clarke, that he couldn't just will the feelings away.

"And it's still not time?"

"Time is when not saying it sounds worse than saying it," he says. "I'm not there yet."

"I'm not saying she's going to shoot you down," Miller says, after a pause. "But if she does, you probably want her to do it before a kid gets involved."

"It's not a big deal," he says, and almost believes it. "Not--the kid is, yeah. But even if she doesn't want to date me, we're always going to be friends."

"Yeah. But--what if you're a happy family for a year, and then she meets someone, and she realizes she can't be anymore?"

"Then it'll suck and me and my baby are going to come and cry on your couch for at least a week. But I'll make sure I talk to her before that happens."

"You're going to have a baby. It's gonna be busy."

"Yeah, but it'll probably tank her sex life too."

Miller snorts. "That's the spirit. Now start paying attention so I drop you at the right gate."

Bellamy straightens, turns his attention to the signs directing them into the airport. Without the distraction of Clarke, his mind goes back to the actual infant who's going to be _his_ in a matter of hours, and his stomach churns.

At least it's kind of novel, to have his feelings for Clarke not be the most stressful part of his life. For them to be a welcome distraction, instead of a constant disaster.

"I'm on Jet Blue," he says, and checks the sign. "Thanks for the ride. And the ass-kicking."

"For the record, I think there's like a seventy-five percent chance she'd just fucking marry you if you asked," Miller tells him, once he pulls into the gate.

Bellamy doesn't have a good response to that, so he just leans over to give Miller half a hug and a grin. "Dude, watch your language," he says. "I'm going to be a fucking dad soon."

*

"Are you sure you can handle her?" asks the foster father. He and his wife seem like a perfectly nice couple, and Bellamy is sure that if they wanted to adopt her, they'd take good care of her.

But he took one look at her and fell in love, and he can be good for her too. He can be the best for her.

"You wouldn't think it would be that difficult, for a baby," says the mother. "But she knows what she lost."

"Yeah," he agrees. "I helped out a lot when my baby sister was born, I remember how tough it was when me or my mom left for more than a few hours. She thought we were never coming back." He offers the woman a smile, since she looks worried. "I'm pretty good with babies."

"Is it just you?"

Grace fusses a little in his arms, and Bellamy rocks her and offers his finger to play with, which she seems to appreciate. He appreciates having an excuse to think for a second about his response.

"No, not just me. I've got a pretty great support group. And, uh--I live with my girlfriend." Clarke wouldn't mind the lie, in this case. She'd understand. "She's going to help out."

"Oh!" the woman seems pleased, and Bellamy would be annoyed, because between him and Clarke he is infinitely more prepared to deal with a baby, but she's probably just glad he has _someone_. "That's nice. Were the two of you thinking about children?"

"Not yet, but--we knew we wanted kids someday. I think we'll be good. Obviously the circumstances aren't what I imagined, but--I'm glad I can take her."

"I'm glad," says the father. "She's a good girl. It's good she has family to look out for her."

Bellamy's still only about forty-percent convinced she's in any way related to him, but he also doesn't actually care. Unless someone tries to sue him for custody, he doesn't think it matters. And he assumes if anyone was planning to sue him for custody, the social worker would have mentioned their existence.

"Yeah," he agrees, smiling at the firm grip of his daughter's fingers around his thumb. "We're going to take really good care of her."

*

Clarke is the one to pick them up from the airport, and all it takes is the first sight of her for Bellamy to realize exactly how right Miller was about this whole thing. It hasn't been awful, the last day. He got through the night without too much trouble, and through the flight with a little more, but he was aware, the entire time, of being _alone_. It's a feeling he remembers from being a kid, but in a different way. He had a constant awareness of being _not_ a family the way people thought of families. People knew he should have a father and didn't, and when Octavia came along, they knew she didn't have a father either, and that her father probably wasn't his father, when they thought about it.

As a kid, he was defiant about it. Who _cared_ that he didn't have two parents? He didn't need a father. _Octavia_ didn't need a father.

But there's something so stupidly nice about how he knows he and Clarke must look. She's waiting for him and Grace at the airport, and it's like they're a family. He was on a trip with his daughter, and Clarke was meeting them at the airport. They were an easy, cohesive unit. Anyone who was watching stopped thinking there was anything extraordinary about him at all.

He's not alone, and the sheer relief of it is tempered by the knowledge of exactly how bad it's going to be, if she leaves.

"How was the flight?" she asks, once they reach her.

"Fucking terrible," he replies without thinking, and then realizes he's holding a baby. He didn't start swearing until he was nineteen, trying to be a good influence on his sister, even after _she_ started swearing to wind him up. Maybe he can do better with Grace. "I mean--it was rough," he corrects. "She didn't like it, which was already bad, and this was my first time being on the parent side of the crying kid on the plane. But she calmed down eventually, so yeah. I don't feel like a total failure yet."

"That's good," she says, but she's watching the baby with a careful expression, like she thinks Grace is going to surge out of Bellamy's arms and attack her. "Because I'm definitely going to be one. One of us needs to have some idea what we're doing."

The last lingering threads of tension leak out of him. The reality of Grace could have been it for Clarke. He wouldn't have blamed her. It's easy to say that you'll be there for someone, and from Clarke, he'd believe it every time, but this is huge, even for her. Even for them. If she'd backed out, it would have broken his heart, but he would have understood.

He thinks about it in the back of his mind as he helps Clarke hold Grace for the first time, as he sets up the car seat and settles her in, as Clarke swears and then corrects herself trying to navigate out of the airport. It's been less than an hour and she already noticed his change in habit and picked up on it.

"I think I'm doing okay so far, right?" she asks, once they're on the freeway and chatting. There's an undercurrent of nervousness in her tone, and he wants to reach over and take her hand, offer her some comfort.

But he can do that without touching her. "You're doing great." He clears his throat. "I know I told you you didn't have to help with this, but it's been less than a week since I found out and I already don't know what I'd be doing without you."

"You'd be fine," she says, with easy conviction. No one believes in him like Clarke does, without any hesitation. Part of him thinks that should be a problem, because he should have to earn it. But then he remembers he already did, somehow. It hasn't always been like this; he worked to make her respect him, and now she does, without question, always. "But I'm sticking around anyway," she adds, smiling at the road.

"Cool. Don't ever let me talk you out of it," he adds, in a fit of courage. The certainty he feels right now, that she belongs in his family, that he gets to have her, it's not going to last. It's going to get clouded with guilt and doubt and insecurity. When it gets hard, he'll try to spare her.

"I won't," she says, and he knows that's true, too. 

How did he ever survive, without someone like Clarke in his life?

"Get some sleep, Bellamy. We're going to need it," she adds, and he does. He wakes up when the car stops, but he doesn't open his eyes right away, lets himself take a second. He hears Clarke getting out of the car and opening the back door, speaking softly. "Hey, Grace," she says. "Yeah, we're going to let your dad sleep a little longer. But you can come check out the apartment. We've got a crib for you. I hope you like it. Dad said it was the best one, and he probably checked."

"Dad?" Bellamy asks. When he opens his eyes, Clarke looks caught, a flush on her neck.

"What? You aren't thinking she's going to call you _Bellamy_ , are you? It's a lot of syllables."

"That's the first time I heard it," he says. "It's, uh--are you going to be Clarke?"

"I should be, right?" She's looking at Grace, her face all twisted with wonder. 

He might not survive this.

"If you want," he says, because _no_ feels too dangerous. "I was trying to figure out--I don't know. She makes sounds, but none of them are really talking yet."

"It's about a year for talking," she offers. "I googled it. But it might take longer, since--I don't know. She was probably learning to call Echo _Mom_ , and no one _Dad_ , so she has to get used to--us."

"Yeah. So--you can figure it out. Whatever you want, Clarke. Just let me know."

"I want you to help me bring all this stuff inside," she says. "Get up and contribute."

He smiles. "Yeah, yeah. I'm coming."

*

Bellamy has, occasionally, thought about having kids with Clarke. Not in great detail, it was just a thing he'd wonder about, in passing. He'd wonder if Clarke wanted kids, or if she wasn't interested. If that was the kind of thing that was important enough to him that it would cause problems, years down the line. It was the stupidest kind of fantasy, thinking about how the thing he wanted most could go wrong, if he got it.

He never thought about it in a concrete way, because he never thought about having a kid by surprise. Even if he'd gotten someone pregnant accidentally and they decided to keep it, he would have had seven or eight months to figure it out, depending on how early he heard.

Sometimes he hates Echo, and then he feels awful, because she didn't owe him anything, not really. The kid might not even be his, in a biological sense. Maybe she put him down on the birth certificate under the influence of whatever she took to get through labor. Maybe she didn't even remember. Maybe she didn't know she did it.

It doesn't matter. Whatever happened, he has a daughter now, and Clarke is something far too close to a mother for his own sanity. If he'd had a chance to think about it, he doesn't know what he would have expected, but it wouldn't have been _this_. But Clarke doesn't half-ass anything.

"Do I really need to be here for this?" he can't help asking.

"No," says Clarke. She's trying to figure out to position the privacy blanket thing over her chest, and Bellamy is trying really hard to not think about her breasts, because this isn't sex-related at all. They're basically parents, and this is what parents do. It should not be hot. Not even a little bit.

But he hasn't gotten laid in months, and the girl he's in love with it going to be topless in a minute.

"But I want you here," she goes on. "I'm going to do something wrong."

"Not that I have experience with this, but I think you just stick the baby on your boob and go with it. It seems pretty fool-proof."

"That's the plan," she says. "But I'm not sure it's going to work."

"How are you expecting me to help?"

"Moral support." Her shirt lands on the couch between them. "Also, this is a huge pain, and babies nurse a lot, so I think at some point we're just going to have to accept that you're going to see my nipples."

He counts five Mississippis in his head, for dramatic effect, and then says, "Okay. I've accepted it. Let me see your boobs."

Clarke doesn't laugh. She just levels him with a look, and then she disentangles herself from the privacy sheet. Bellamy's eyes snap to her face immediately, for his own sanity, but he can't actually avoid seeing her bare chest out of the corner of his eye. He wonders if she'd be offended if he bought her a nursing shirt. Ideally she'll get cold and buy one for herself.

"Baby?" she prompts, and he shakes himself.

"If this doesn't work, it's not a big deal," he tells her, passing Grace over. "I know formula gets a shitty reputation, but--"

"I know." She wets her lips, maneuvers the baby. "I'll get one of those shirts, if it--if she's not interested and I'm not actually producing milk it seems like a waste of money, but--"

"Can you stop being cool about this for like five seconds and acknowledge it's fu--really awkward?" he asks. His tone comes out curious, and Clarke laughs.

"It's really f-ing awkward."

"Okay, cool." He lets out a breath. "Awkward's over. You need help?"

"No, she's--" She laughs. "She's kind of doing it."

"Kind of?" 

"I haven't really got a lot in yet, so it's kind of--"

"Yeah," he says. He shifts a little closer, curious, and then closer when her smile is instant and unstrained. "Better you than me."

"Shut up. You're totally locked out of the miracle of life."

"Totally." He lets his eyes flick down, just for a second, to get a full view of Clarke's chest. With Grace there, it's easy to not think too much about the non-reproductive appeal of breasts, but they're still undeniably _nice_. "We're not screwing this up too badly."

"Not yet," Clarke agrees. "Get Netflix going, okay?"

"Yeah," he says, and when he settles his arm on the couch behind her back, she leans into it.

It's really not so bad.

*

Bellamy doesn't get used to it. He actively, relentlessly, consciously does not get used to it. Because this isn't something he can _do_. Everyone else in the world can buy into their family dynamic; people who see them at the grocery store or the park or the playground can assume they're married, Octavia can call Clarke his wife, Clarke's mother can call Grace her granddaughter, and that's their business. Bellamy constantly reminds himself of who his family is, and of Clarke's role in it.

So when she says, "Are you going to be okay with the kid tonight? I was going to see if I could get some people to go out," it shouldn't feel like being punched in the chest. This is what he's supposed to be ready for. He's constantly thinking about it.

"I think we can handle ourselves for a night, yeah," he says. It's not the first time; he and Clarke both have lives and obligations, but there's something oddly formal about the way she's asking tonight. She _wants_ to leave, she doesn't have to.

And that's fine. If she needs to get laid, she should. It's been a while, as far as he knows. And she didn't really know what she was signing up for.

Not that he did. But at least he had sex with someone and could have possibly fathered a child. Which is more than Clarke did. She just agreed to live with him, and all this stuff fell in her lap.

He makes it an hour into her night out before he can't resist texting her a video of Grace staring down her favorite stuffed giraffe. He feels like a dick, but--well, if _he_ was out and the baby was acting super weird, he'd want Clarke to send him a video. It probably wouldn't kill his game more than any other part of his life. And she can always lie and say it's her best friend's baby.

It's not even a lie. That's the actual reality of the situation. As he _fucking knows_.

**Me** : I'm a dick

**Miller** : Yes, and?

**Me** : Clarke's out looking for a hookup, and I'm texting her videos of Grace

**Miller** : You're a dick for not texting me the videos

He gets a response from Clarke, prompt enough he isn't really worried that she was making out with someone, and replies to her before going to attach the video for Miller. By the time he gets back, Miller is typing again.

**Miller** : She's out with Monty btw  
I don't think she takes him looking for hookups  
Also I think there's a 90% chance she'd marry you now btw  
At least

**Me** : Monty could be a wingman  
But that does help, thanks  
Here's a baby video for your trouble

It's not even five minutes later when Clarke texts, _I'll be home in half an hour_ , and the magnitude of his relief is a little embarrassing.

His fingers hover over the keys, his desire to tell her not to worry about them at war with how much he wants her to be here.

Grace starts crying, and that makes up his mind. _We'll be here_ , he sends, and goes to deal with the baby.

*

He doesn't mean to pass out, but the fastest way for him to calm Grace down is to take off his shirt, lie down with her on his bare chest, and sing softly, and it's really easy to fall asleep like that. Clarke makes fun of him about it, but it _works_ , and it works better than anything else they've tried. He's pointed out any time she wants to try calming the baby down with her naked breasts, he supports her, and she laughs and tells him she's pretty sure the baby's more into her chest than his, globally speaking.

It's the kind of thing he shouldn't be used to, but he is.

He wakes up with Clarke sitting next to him, her fingers tangled gently in his hair. He holds the baby tighter with one arm and rubs his face with the other, scowls when he hits his glasses. 

"You're so old," she tells him, and he opens his eyes to glare. She wasn't particularly dressed up to go out, so maybe Nate was right. Maybe she was just looking for a break, not a hookup.

"I'm a father, I sleep when I can." He pushes himself up, looks her over. "You could have stayed out later," he tells her. It's safe, now that she's home. Now that there's no danger she'll listen to him and do it. "We were fine."

She catches her lip in her teeth for a second, hesitating. "I'm a mother. I get tired."

It would be weird if he made a big deal of it, so he doesn't. She's just mirroring what he said. "Still." He clears his throat. "I know you don't get much time to hang out these days. I don't mind if you take it."

Clarke nudges her shoulder against his, smiling. "Remember how you don't want to do this alone and I'm supposed to remind you of that?" she teases.

"Why do you think I told you to remind me? If I'd do it on my own, I wouldn't need your help." She snorts a soft laugh, and he smiles too. "Seriously, did you have fun?"

He's hoping for more information about what she was doing, but she just reaches over to brush a wisp of hair off Grace's forehead. "Yeah. But I missed you guys."

His first response feels stupid, _I missed you too_ , making too big a deal of it. She wasn't even gone for two hours. But it also feels like he can't just let it go. Not when he has this chance. "Honestly, I was sort of expecting you to not come home tonight," he admits.

"That was stupid," she says, so fast that he lets out a laugh despite the tension he can't shake. "I would have told you if I was out cruising for a hookup."

"You don't have to. I get that it's--weird." 

It's the understatement of the century, but she doesn't call him on it. Unfortunately, she calls him on something worse. "So you thought I was out trying to get laid and texted me a video of our daughter?"

"I never said I wasn't an asshole," he points out, and her smile doesn't quite convince him. So--he fucked up. It's fine. It was only a matter of time. 

But she straightens, looks at him with a serious expression he can't quite interpret. "I was out with Raven and Lincoln and Monty." It's not much of a revelation, but she drops her gaze all the same, focusing on Grace. "So they could tell me it's okay I'm in love with you. Which they did, so--I feel a lot better."

His heart actually stops, and for a second, his entire world is just--static. There's nothing. 

When his brain kicks back in, all he can think is-- _no_. It's not possible. His brain is corrupted by all the baby, so hers probably is too.

"You know you're, like--producing a lot of hormones right now, right?" he asks. "Your body is probably really confused about milk and reproduction and babies, so--"

Clarke is looking amused and fond and not even a little convinced, and Bellamy thinks he might throw up. Maybe in a positive way. He's never been so fucking nervous in his life. "It's not new, Bellamy," she says, gentle. "I just thought we weren't--I didn't think you wanted that, so I wasn't going to want it either." 

It's so _familiar_. It's the same thing he's thought, more than once. 

Oh fuck, this might actually be a thing. He might really get her.

"But," Clarke is saying, as his brain quietly implodes, "if this isn't going to happen, we should probably figure it out before this gets any more--complicated."

"Oh." It's all he can manage for a second, but she's obviously _right_. He was even thinking the same thing. He just apparently did not, on any level, really think Clarke might feel the same way, and he's actually unprepared to deal with it. "I'm, uh--I'm going to put the baby in the crib. And then I'm going to--" Clarke is watching him, amused and fond and just a little bit nervous, and Bellamy lets himself lean in and press his mouth against hers. Since he hasn't actually told her yet. Since she probably doesn't know. "We should figure it out," he says, and makes himself get up and go to the crib. He's shaking, and he doesn't even know _why_. It's just that nothing in his life has ever been too good to be true, and now his best friend is sitting on their couch, offering him everything he wants.

He counts to five once the baby is settled and then asks, "So, are you drunk? How drunk are you?"

"Not drunk. Not in any way impaired."

When he lets himself look at her, she's still watching him, and he wishes he weren't a fucking mess. "Sorry, I just--fuck, I can't do this if it's--if you're--"

Her expression softens. "Bell. Just sit down and breathe, okay?"

She makes it sound so easy. But it probably should be. This is Clarke. She's not going to be fucking with him. But there's a part of him that can't help thinking about how _much_ this is. It's him being in love with her, and a baby, and of course Clarke loves him. Of course she does. He's never doubted that. But--

"You gotta be sure, Clarke." He makes himself admit, "I am. And I don't mind--I can wait, I've been waiting, but I can't--"

Clarke rolls her eyes. "You would have been a lot better off just _saying something_ ," she says, and before he can protest, she wraps her hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in, her kiss firmer and surer and longer than his, and apparently his insecurities can't survive her wanting to make out.

Which is _great_ , because the last thing he wants to do is not make out with Clarke, and Clarke seems to feel exactly the same way. When he pushes her back, she goes easily, and when he slides his leg between hers, she arches up against him, and his life is _so fucking good_.

When he pulls back, she grins at him, gorgeous and laughing and his, his, _finally_ his. 

"I'm sure. People don't adopt babies with you if they're not sure," she adds, teasing.

He nips her bottom lip. "It's not adopting if she's mine."

"She's mine too," she says, decisive, and she _is_ , somehow.

Somehow, Bellamy's life actually is this great.

*

"Do I get to brag or not?"

"I told you to just tell her," Miller says. "You don't get to brag that listening to me worked out. You just did what I said and it worked."

"That's why I was asking." Grace stirs in his arms, and Miller makes grabby hands. For someone who pretends to be all badass and aloof, he's a total softie for Grace. He's got a campaign going to be named her godfather, and once Bellamy figures out what exactly a godfather is and how to give Miller the title, it's totally going to work. "But you told me I should just move out too."

"I was telling you to just talk to her way before that. But sure, we can go with that. Let me hold the baby and you can brag about whatever you want."

Bellamy passes over Grace, and, once she's settled, says, "I'm going to marry Clarke."

"Yeah, that's news to no one except you. But congratulations. I'm glad raising a baby with the girl you're in love with didn't completely blow up in your face. I was pretty worried."

"Me too," says Bellamy. "But, yeah, you were right. All I had to do was--" He pauses, reconsider. "Wait for her to figure out she was into me and make a move herself."

"You did say it wasn't time yet," Miller grants. "Maybe you actually knew what you were talking about."

Yeah, definitely not. But Clarke's got my back."

"As always."

Bellamy grins up at the ceiling, stupid with happiness. "Yeah. As always."


	6. No One Can Lift the Damn Thing - Clarke POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039725)!

**Raven** : Just got my invite to Finn and Ontari's wedding  
You?

**Me** : Nope  
Do you think they flipped a coin?  
Or she just gave him an ultimatum?  
Like  
You can invite one of your awkward exes  
But only one  
Choose wisely

**Raven** : Honestly, I'm guessing he never actually told his mom why we broke up  
And given the choice between telling her he cheated on me and I dumped his ass  
And just inviting me to his wedding  
He invited me to his wedding

**Me** : Yeah, that's definitely what happened  
Are you going to go?

**Raven** : Yup  
Got a hot girlfriend  
I like his parents  
And I want him to feel awkward about shit  
Too bad he didn't invite you

**Me** : I really don't mind  
I feel like I dodged a bullet

**Raven** : You could have brought Bellamy  
Finn was jealous of him BEFORE he was famous for being hot  
Imagine how much he'd hate seeing you guys together now

**Me** : You know, I was going to say Bellamy has better things to do than go to a wedding just to piss off Finn  
But then I remembered this is Bellamy we're talking about  
So he'd probably do it

**Raven** : Yeah, I doubt fame changed him that much  
Sucks that you're not coming, though  
We should get together soon

**Me** : Maybe I'll just come hang out in town  
Coincidentally

**Raven** : I know you're joking, but you should  
I bet Monty and Miller are going

**Me** : I'll think about it

*

**supreme-girl-wonder** posted: do you ever get amazed that people you went to college with are now getting married and have lives and seem to know what they're doing?? I think I might have the most competent group of college friends ever, it's really intimidating

but congrats to my cheating ex-boyfriend on his engagement and thanks for not inviting me to the wedding

**Tagged** : #no seriously #thanks #I really did not want to go #it would be awkward af but if he invited me I'd feel like I had to go #or else they were winning #glad I don't have to worry about that #I can just get drunk in the comfort of my own home instead

*

**Bellamy** : Did you book your hotel for Finn's wedding yet?  
What days are you going to be there?

**Me** : Hahaha that's cute  
You think Finn invited me to his wedding

**Bellamy** : He didn't?  
He invited me

**Me** : You're rich and famous

**Bellamy** : So are you, princess  
Are we calling you that again? Did we reclaim it from Finn?

**Me** : I prefer Supreme Leader now  
I'm rich, but I'm not featured in tumblr gif sets  
People commission me to do fanart of you

**Bellamy** : And you haven't sent it to me?  
I thought we were friends, Clarke

**Me** : Is James/Sirius a pairing you're into?

**Bellamy** : Obviously

**Me** : Then I'll send you some links

**Bellamy** : Awesome  
Finn really didn't invite you to the wedding?

**Me** : He used to hit on me in front of the woman he's now marrying  
While they were dating  
She hated me  
Of course they didn't invite me  
They'd probably keel over and die if I showed up  
Related: Did you get a plus one?

**Bellamy** : Yeah  
I was planning to get them really excited thinking I was bringing some famous actress or something and then I show up with Octavia

**Me** : Or you could show up with me

**Bellamy** : Yeah, that's a way better idea  
So, what nights do you want me to book the hotel?

*

**Anonymous** asked: _do u know if bellamy blake has a gf????_

**supreme-girl-wonder** answered: why would you ask me, a fanart blog, this

*

**Bellamy** : Is it weird that I feel bad flying first class?

**Me** : Definitely  
But you're famous now  
I assume you can afford a therapist to talk you through these issues

**Bellamy** : Why would I pay someone when you took that one psych course sophomore year?

**Me** : Good point  
Bad how?

**Bellamy** : Guilty, mostly  
It feels like such a waste of money  
But holy shit it's so much nicer  
I feel bad for everyone who isn't in first class

**Me** : I'm flying coach so  
Fuck you

**Bellamy** : I don't feel bad for you

**Me** : Wow, you're cured  
I'm better at this therapy thing than I thought

**Bellamy** : Ha ha.  
I hope the tone came across there  
Anyway, I don't feel bad for you because you're rich  
I assume you flew first class when you were a kid  
Also I have to switch to airplane mode  
You're boarding soon?

**Me** : Pretty soon, yeah

**Bellamy** : Cool  
See you in Ohio

**Me** : Can't wait

*

**siriusly-jily** : omg  
kara  
kara  
did u see the new bellamy pics????

**supreme-girl-wonder** : probably not  
I'm out of town for the weekend  
and pretty drunk  
what happened?

**siriusly-jily** : he's at some airport in ohio  
idk why, there aren't any cons or anything  
what's in ohio????

**supreme-girl-wonder** : maybe he has a life  
in ohio  
for some reason

**siriusly-jily** : no way  
actors exist only for our benefit   
:P  
anyway, he's got a gf :(  
people are saying it's clarke griffin  
the vp's daughter

**supreme-girl-wonder** : wow  
am I just drunk or is that a lot of conclusions to jump to

**siriusly-jily** : check it out  
http://remus-lupin-lady.tumblr.com/post/138742714390/omg-omg-omg  
there's more of him with fans but lbr  
that's A LOT of hugging  
and I googled, it does look like the VP's daughter

**supreme-girl-wonder** : if they were dating they probably wouldn't be having their reunion in an airport in ohio  
just saying

**siriusly-jily** : truuuuuuuuuuuuuu  
okay I gotta go to bed  
have fun with whatever thing you're doing

**supreme-girl-wonder** : will do  
keep me posted on Bellamy pics

*

**Jasper** : did you really bring FAMOUS ACTOR AND KNOWN DREAM BOAT BELLAMY BLAKE to this wedding???

**Me** : Nope  
He brought me

**Jasper** : oh  
well  
that was my second guess  
grats on landing a celebrity  
but I guess you're a celebrity too???  
so it makes sense

**Me** : You must be this famous to ride   
Are you coming over for video games?

**Jasper** : yes obv  
omw

*

**Anonymous** asked: _omg kara do you follow m &m media??? they posted pix of them w bellamy and the vp's daughter??? apparently they're engaged??? im so heartbroken rn plz help_

**supreme-girl-wonder** answered: Don't panic, anon! M &M have said they went to college with him like ten billion times. Quick google search says VP's daughter did too. So they're probably at a reunion or something. And let's be real, if you were posing for a picture with him, you'd want to be as close as possible too.

*

**Raven** : Soooooo  
You took off early last night

**Me** : Not THAT early  
We danced a bunch  
I think Bellamy made a lot of dreams come true

**Raven** : Including yours?  
Seriously, I can't believe you never fucked him

**Me** : I was going to, but his mom died  
Better late than never, right?

**Raven** : [confetti emoji]  
Seriously I'm happy for you guys  
One-time thing or?

**Me** : No  
Definitely not  
We're going to try to date  
If we can make it work  
And if nothing else  
Non-stop sex for the rest of the weekend

**Raven** : Well, we're doing breakfast in an hour  
So make sure you come up for air so we can make fun of you

**Me** : You make it sound so fun  
Getting breakfast  
Instead of having sex with my TV star boyfriend

**Raven** : One hour  
If you're not there I'm going to break into your hotel room and post pics on tumblr

**Me** : Okay  
See you in an hour

**Raven** : [kiss emoji]

*

**natsukashii-na** asked: _Random question but do you have a gf now?? You've been reblogging some couple-y stuff and I was just wondering haha sorry if that's weird_

**supreme-girl-wonder** answered: Boyfriend, actually! Bisexuality: it's awesome. But yeah, we've been together for about a month and it's going really well. Long distance right now but I'm moving in with him in a couple weeks. I'm really excited.

**Tagged** : #I know that sounds fast but #trust me #it definitely took us long enough

*

**Anonymous** asked: _doesn't your bf mind that you're really into bellamy blake :/_

**supreme-girl-wonder** answered: He'll live.


	7. The First Time I Felt My Heart - Bellamy POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146257)!

Given how much time Bellamy spends rethinking his proposal to Clarke Griffin, he wishes he'd put a little more thought into it to begin with. Not that he thinks it would have helped, exactly. Clarke didn't want to marry him, and still doesn't. And he still doesn't think she's the kind of woman who wants sweeping off her feet.

But he hadn't even quite realized, the first time he proposed, that he was going to do it. He'd liked her, right from the start, and he'd been aware that she was lovely and spirited and he liked talking to her. He'd even been aware he might bring up marriage, someday, if they both seemed amenable.

And then he'd seen her out riding, scowling and muttering as if she was rehearsing a fight she'd like to have later, and he'd been overcome with a sudden certainty. He wanted to marry her. He wanted it so much he could taste it.

And he'd decided the best way to deal with that was to make it seem as if he didn't want it at all.

He's not even convinced he was wrong, not exactly. If she'd wanted to marry him in the first place, he thinks she probably would have said yes to the proposal, so it doesn't matter in that sense. He doesn't think there's a way he could have asked that she would have agreed to, which is the most important thing.

But he thinks if she realized how he felt about her, she'd be a little more cautious with his heart.

Not, of course, that he expects her to never marry for his sake, or to place his feelings before hers. But he knows Clarke well enough to be sure that if she realized he loved her, she would be--considerate. But she doesn't seem to have any idea, and he has no interest in making things more awkward by telling her. And it would be an overall increase in awkwardness, if she knew. Of that, he is sure.

Still, there's plenty of awkwardness to go around already, which is probably why Monty comes to him and says, "I need your help with something."

He looks _nervous_ , which is uncommon for him, and Bellamy cocks his head. "If you want my blessing before you propose to Miller, you know you have it."

He smiles, relaxes a little. "I do know that, so I'm not asking for it." But then the tension returns, almost at once. "It's actually Raven."

Since Finn came home and decided he was done with her, they've all been worried about Raven. She's stayed quiet about it, only telling Monty and Bellamy about what happened, and only the two of them because they happened to be around at the time. The word has been spreading slowly, carefully, her friends' desire to respect her wishes and keep it from erupting into a scandal at war with their desire to make sure everyone knows how awful Finn had been to her.

So he straightens himself, losing the teasing tone. "What happened?"

"Nothing, not like you're thinking. But--I heard a rumor that Finn has been sniffing around Clarke. I wasn't going to believe it, but I saw them the other day, and it does seem like he's trying to court her. I don't think she knows about him and Raven."

"No, I don't think so either." He rubs his face. "Did you talk to Raven?"

"Not yet. Honestly, I wanted to make you do it."

Bellamy snorts. "Thanks."

"You know Clarke better than I do," he says. "So--you should handle this."

"Again, thanks." He had known that Clarke was talking to Finn, but, as always, he hopes everyone he likes has better taste that to be interested in Finn Collins. Bellamy's never been terribly impressed with him, and he doesn't see why anyone else is either.

And he can admit that if Clarke wants to marry Finn Collins and not him, he'll be pretty upset about it. But he doubts she will, once she hears about Raven. Even if she likes him, Clarke doesn't seem like the type to ignore something like that. 

"So--you'll talk to her?" Monty prompts. 

"I'll talk to her," he says. "Thanks for letting me know." He offers a wry grin. "Why do intelligent women insist on thinking they should marry Finn Collins?"

"Better them than me," he says, and Bellamy laughs.

"If you ever leave Miller for Finn, we're going to have words."

"If I ever leave Miller for Finn, I'm going to deserve them. Thanks for handling this for me," he adds, and Bellamy shakes his head.

"You owe me one."

"Worth it," says Monty, and Bellamy has to agree. He's not looking forward to this one.

*

He finds Raven first. He knows she doesn't want to talk about it, but he doesn't know how to approach Clarke himself, not without feeling self-serving. Although he's sure Clarke will want to know about Raven and Finn's history, if he's the one who tells her, he feels as if the information is tainted.

If it comes from Raven, it's probably better.

She's at the smithy, working as usual when he arrives, and sometimes he can't help wishing the two of them wanted to marry. It would be nice, if things were so neat and tidy. But they'd tried a relationship, once, and found friendship was better for them.

And now he's in love with someone else, so it doesn't matter. It wouldn't be fair to her, even if she was interested.

"What," she says, flat.

"Have you told Clarke about Finn?" he asks, without preamble. From the hard set of her shoulders, he assumes she knows exactly why he's here already.

"Why would I?"

"If someone led me on for a year and then told me he wasn't interested anymore and moved on to someone else, I'd want to tell the other person about it," he says.

"You think so? Because I'm the one it happened to, and I don't want to tell anyone."

"Raven--"

"I don't want to talk about it," she snaps. "If you think Clarke needs to know, you can tell her your own damn self. It's none of my business what either of them does. He's not mine."

"I'm sorry," he finally says. "You're right. I have no idea how you're feeling or how bad it is for you. I just--I don't want him to get away with it. He doesn't get to do this to you and turn around and get Clarke. Not after that."

"You know she might not care, right?"

He has trouble believing it, but--maybe she'll want to hear Finn's side. Maybe a romantic enough declaration from him will win her over. "I know," he says.

"You ever ask her yourself?" she asks, her gaze calculating as she watches him.

For a second, he's tempted to pretend he doesn't know what she means. But he does, of course. "I did. She said no."

"Huh. Sorry," she adds. "I didn't know that."

He shrugs it off, hoping his unconcern seems genuine. "It was a while ago."

To his surprise, she smiles. "It was?"

"Six months or so, now."

"You ever try asking again?"

"She already said no once, Raven. If I keep asking, all I do is make things awkward." He swallows hard. "If she ever changes her mind, she can let me know."

"Does she know you didn't change your mind?" Raven shoots back, and it's a valid question, one he doesn't want to answer.

"Why would I have changed my mind?" he asks instead, and reaches over to give her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I'm sorry Finn is a bastard," he adds. 

"Me too," she says. "Sorry about Clarke."

"Like I said, long time ago." He makes himself smile. "I don't mind."

And it's mostly true, except for that his next step is still talking to Clarke, and that he's not looking forward to at all. He does believe, for the most part, that she won't be happy to learn this about Finn, but he also doesn't know what her reaction will be, if she'll be heartbroken or upset or betrayed. He doesn't want to know how much she cares.

He wishes it was Raven telling her, but he understands why she won't, and it still needs to happen. So it's his responsibility.

When he gets back to the Griffin farm, Clarke is at the table, working on the accounts, and he sits down across from her. It's a common enough occurrence that she doesn't even look up, just says, "Bellamy."

"Finn Collins," he says.

"Finn Collins," she agrees, putting the pen down and looking expectantly at him. "I assume you know him. He knew you."

It feels like a trap. "Of course I know him."

"And?" 

He decided the best plan was to be direct and honest; if the facts don't change her mind, he doubts anything else will. "When he left, he was engaged to Raven," he says. "And as far as any of us knew, he was planning to still be engaged to Raven when he got back."

He watches her carefully, and while it's hard to read her emotions, it's obvious she's not pleased by the information.

Still, her voice is cool when she asks, "What happened?"

"He thought it would be impolite to break it off in a letter. So he kept writing to her for the year he was gone. The last letter she got, he said he couldn't wait to see her and he loved her, and then he came back and told her he thought they were different people who needed different things. And apparently what he thinks he needs is you. It's your decision, obviously," he adds, feeling just a little too bitter for his own comfort and wanting to rein it in. "The engagement is over and he's unattached. There's nothing improper about--"

She's shaking her head. "Bellamy, stop. I had no idea."

He exhales. "I know.I tried to get Raven to tell you, but--she said it wasn't her business what he does now." For once, her reaction is obvious, discomfort written all over her face, and he nearly reaches out. "You didn't know. I would have told you sooner, but--I didn't know you were spending time with him until recently."

There's a smile playing around her lips, fond, and at least she's not upset with him. "I was waiting for your commentary. What would you have told me if he hadn't been engaged to Raven?"

"The same thing I told Raven when she agreed to marry him. If he makes you happy, I'm happy for you, but--I think you could do better, Clarke."

It's not really true, of course. If not for Raven, he probably would have kept his mouth shut unless she asked, worried about sabotaging her for his own selfish reasons. He wouldn't have wanted her to think that he had any other motives. 

But she smiles, so it was the right answer. "He doesn't sound like an improvement on being alone. Thank you," she adds. "For telling me."

"That's it?" he can't help asking. After all the stress this has caused him, it seems as if there should be more too it.

Clarke just looks amused. "What do you mean?"

"You're just going to break it off?"

"There isn't really much to break off," she says, with a shrug. "I'd been seeing him sometimes. I'll probably still see him sometimes. But--he hurt Raven, and I like Raven. And he treated her poorly, and I wouldn't want to be with a man who treated me poorly. So, yes. I'm not going to encourage him. I did tell you I'm not desperate for a marriage, Bellamy," she teases. "I'm still not desperate."

"Oh." It's the kind of thing he'd like to press her on, but he doesn't know how. She's so casual talking about it, it feel as if she should just be able to ask. To find out exactly what she wants, and if he could ever be that. But he doesn't really want to hear that she'd have to be desperate to marry him. And he doesn't really want her to stop feeling so easy around him. "Well, I should--" He rubs the back of his neck, not sure what to say. "I should go check on the sheep," he settles on.

At least Clarke smiles, instead of pressing him. "You should. And if you find out I'm associating with anyone else you dislike, you should tell me that too."

"I think you can always trust me to give you my honest opinions," he says, dry, and she laughs.

"I certainly can." She turns back to the accounts, deliberate. "Say hello to the sheep for me."

Outside, he leans against the wall, letting out a long breath. It doesn't even make sense, that his heart his racing, that he's still so nervous about it. It went well, and Clarke isn't getting married.

Not yet, anyway.

"Don't be an idiot," he tells himself, firm. 

And then he goes to check on the sheep.

*

Roan Winters has been a source of mild stress for him since Clarke came to Arcadia, since before he even proposed himself. In fact, it was an unfamiliar jealousy of Roan that made him realize his first interest in her, a bristling at the two of them walking together that he never felt when Roan spoke with Raven or Harper or any of the other women of the town. And it's never quite improved, not in all these months, because Clarke and Roan have persisted in being friends, and he can't convince himself it doesn't mean anything.

When he's trying to feel optimistic, he tells himself Roan could have proposed and been turned down, the same as he was. Which then makes him feel like an awful person, because he should _want_ Clarke to be happy. He should want her to marry Roan and start a family. He shouldn't be praying she's turned down every prospect she has.

"I should probably just move to California," he tells Miller.

Miller thinks it over. "You don't think maybe she changed her mind? About marrying you." 

"If she changed her mind, she'd tell me, wouldn't she?"

"I don't know. This is you we're talking about."

He scowls. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Miller considers. "It means you don't like showing you're hurt. I get it, don't get me wrong, but I never got the impression Clarke thought you cared much that she wasn't marrying you."

"I don't," he says, petulant, and Miller rolls his eyes.

"This is what I'm talking about. She broke your heart."

"Not that much. Really," he adds. "It's not her turning me down that's the problem. But I'm going to have trouble watching Roan Winters court and marry her. Which--that's not her fault. So I should just leave."

"You shouldn't leave before you talk to her," says Miller, and it's probably true. There's no reason to be so sure she'll marry Roan, anyway. He can ask, but she might not say yes. "I know you love being stupidly dramatic, but--"

"You'd miss me," Bellamy says. "It's fine. I get it. I'd miss me too."

"I'm just saying, you talk to her, maybe she'll say she feels the same way, and you could actually be _happy_. Instead of just a pain in my ass."

"Love you too," he says. But Miller does look worried, so he tries out a smile. "I'll talk to her."

*

"Roan?" he asks her, the next day. It was sufficient for Finn, so he assumes it will do for Roan as well.

His heart plummets at the face she makes. "What's wrong with Roan? And keep in mind, he's one person I grew up with, not you," she adds, like a warning. "So I'm the expert."

"And you like him," he says.

"I do. He's a good man. A bit stubborn and arrogant and pigheaded sometimes, but I could say the same of you. Or myself. Most people I like. And I do like him," she says, her voice edged with steel. He doesn't really have anything bad to say about Roan, not like he did Finn, but apparently she's not interested in hearing it anyway.

She's the expert, and her mind is made up.

"All right," he says.

She frowns. "Really?"

"Sorry, did you want me to argue?"

"A little bit," she says, smiling. "I'm used to arguing with you."

He shrugs. "I like him fine. I was just--asking."

"Your concern is appreciated," she says. "But as I said, he's one person I actually do know better than you do. We've been friends for a long time."

He nods. "So, I won't argue."

And he won't. But he doesn't think he can stay, either.

*

Echo's the one who tells him about the impending engagement, in a casual, easy way that suggests she doesn't think he'll care. They're both at the general store, picking up supplies, and she says, "Roan finally bought a ring."

His whole body goes cold. "An engagement ring?"

She rolls her eyes. "What other kind of ring would he be buying? When's the big day?" she adds, and Bellamy turns to see Roan behind them, smirking a little. Bellamy's not sure he's ever seen Roan _not_ smirking a little.

"The day after tomorrow," he says. "I'd been meaning to invite you, Bellamy."

"That's awfully soon for a wedding," he says, keeping his voice even. "And I assume Clarke would have mentioned it."

Echo frowns, but Roan's smile only widens. "Not to the wedding. Not yet. I'm having a ball, I'm planning to propose there. You're of course welcome to join us."

Punching him would be inappropriate; it's not his _fault_. If Clarke prefers him, that's just how it is.

Still, he doesn't have to go to the party where the proposal will happen. There are limits to the amount of pain he's interested in experiencing in his life, and that is probably a hard limit.

"I appreciate the invitation," he says. "I'm not much for parties."

"I understand," Roan agrees. "But I'll still hope to see you there."

His plan for that evening is, in all honesty, packing up his things to move to California. Which does, as Miller said, feel a little dramatic, but--he's wanted to move for a long time. And he doesn't have to stay forever. He just has to stay long enough to forget his feelings for Clarke. He'll make sure his sister is doing well, see California, and then come back and not care at all how many children Clarke and Roan have had.

That's what he's telling himself when Clarke says, "You're coming tonight, aren't you?"

He looks up from the lamb he's inspecting, frowning at her. The wind is tangling the loose strands of her hair, and her smile is clear and uncomplicated.

He can't stay for this. He wishes he could, but he can't.

"To Roan's?" he asks. "No."

"Really? Why not?"

It's tempting to tell her the truth now, before the proposal. To lay out exactly how he feels, exactly how much he wants her. He loved her then, and he loves her now, and he thought it would stop, but every day he just loves her more. He can't help it.

"You didn't really think I liked parties, did you?" he asks instead. "I thought that was obvious."

"You don't have to like parties to come to a party."

"Oh, well. When you put it like that, it makes perfect sense," he says, and she shakes her head.

"You know what I mean."

"Honestly, I don't."

"You don't have anything else to do tonight, do you? You're just going to be at home alone if you don't come."

"You make that sound like a bad thing. That sounds like a huge improvement to me."

"You work too hard. You need a break."

"Being at home alone is a break." But she's watching him with something like _concern_ in her eyes, as if she really thinks that going to a ball will improve his life. As if she's spends a great deal of time fretting about the quality of his life. "You really want me there?" he finally asks.

"Of course I do," she says, without hesitation.

It probably won't be that much worse to witness it. He's going to find out anyway. Roan won't do it in front of all of them. If he doesn't go tonight, he'll just have to deal with Clarke showing off her ring in the morning. At least at the party, he'll be part of the crowd. 

And she looks so hopeful.

He crosses his arms. "Fine. But I'm not going to stay long."

Her smile is like the sun, and he has to look away. "I wasn't expecting you to, no," she says, and at least there's that.

*

Clarke's cheerful as they walk over, but if she has any idea that Roan is planning to propose, she shows no sign of it. She talks about helping Raven find a dress and how she's going to make Monty dance with her.

"And you, of course."

"I'll be happy to dance with Monty," he says, and she grins.

"That's exactly what I meant, obviously."

"Obviously. I don't dance, Clarke. But you'll have better partners to chose from, don't worry."

"I'd like to dance with you," she says, and this is really the problem, he thinks. Even if she doesn't marry Roan, she's always going to be like this. She's always going to like Bellamy just enough to rip his heart out, and that's just bad luck, for him. So even if she's not getting married, he can't stay here. Even if she turns Roan down, he's going to leave.

It is a nice party, aside from the lump that feels like lead in the pit of his stomach. Clarke is a better dancer than he expected, and she seems to enjoy it too. She doesn't limit herself to Roan either; she makes Monty dance with her, as promised, and Jasper, and when she offers her hand to him, he lets himself take it.

"This is the only time I'm doing this," he tells her, settling one hand on her shoulder and the other on her waist.

"Thank you for doing it once, then." She smiles as he starts to lead. "You're not bad at it or anything."

"I can be good at things I don't like."

"You're good at everything."

He shakes his head. "That's definitely not true."

"Everything I've ever seen you do," she says, and he bites back on pointing out how awful he was at proposing to her.

It's a nice dance, after all; he doesn't want to ruin it.

Roan takes her after he lets her go, and she says she'll grab him for another one, later.

"Definitely not," he tells her, and goes to sulk by the refreshments with Miller.

When he realizes he has to go, Roan and Clarke are dancing again. It's nothing special, nothing earth-shattering, nothing worse than Roan leaning in to speak with Clarke, low, and the problem is really the same thing it's been this whole time, which is that this is about as well as things could realistically go for him, and it's still too much for him to deal with.

"I've got to go," he tells Miller, low, and Miller looks him up and down.

"Home or to California?"

"Both," he admits, and Miller nods.

"Let me know if you need help."

He smiles. "Will do."

It's a nice enough night, warm and clear, the moon nearly full and the sky full of stars. He picks out constellations as he walks, and tries to decide if he's really doing the right thing.

Maybe if she doesn't accept Roan's proposal, he can ask her what would make her marry. If there's any way she might ever want to marry someone like him. And then, if there isn't--that's when he leaves.

It's about the best he can do. And if he's being too dramatic about it, he thinks he's earned it. He's spent months trying to pretend he's fine, and now it's all going to explode in a horrible mess.

He's just not expecting it to happen until _tomorrow_.

The sound of the door startles him out of his suitcase. He's expecting Miller, maybe Raven, possibly Echo. Not Clarke. Clarke's busy getting engaged, so there's no reason at all for her to be in his doorway, frowning at him in utter confusion.

Still, there she is.

"Are you packing?" she demands.

It's too late and he's too raw to really do anything but have the fight. He doesn't know why she's here, but it was coming one way or another, so--tonight it is. 

He doesn't look up when he says, "You and Roan can handle the farm. So I can go to California and--"

Her voice is oddly gentle, and that's what gets his attention. "Bellamy. Roan is proposing to Raven."

For a second, he has no idea what to think. His mind rearranges itself, remembers seeing Clarke with Roan, remembers that Raven _was_ with them. He'd thought it was a little, odd, but he'd thought maybe the Finn thing had brought her and Clarke closer together. That they were better friends now. It made sense to him.

"Raven," he breathes.

"I thought you knew," she says, and she sounds genuinely guilty, for all she didn't do anything. She never said a word about being interested in Roan. "I didn't know you--"

"It doesn't matter," he tells her, because it _doesn't_. He still can't do this. He still has to leave, because Clarke doesn't love him. She's going to marry someone else, someday. And he's going to be happy for her. He'll just be happy from a distance. "You can hire Miller for a foreman," he goes on, not looking at her. "He'll do just as well as I do, and probably be less trouble."

Clarke huffs. "I don't want Miller."

And that's the whole fucking problem, right there. "I'm getting tired of living my life based on what _you_ want, Clarke," he snaps.

If she feels bad, she doesn't show it. Her eyes flash, and she sounds just as frustrated as he feels when she shouts, "You never told me what you wanted!"

"You're right," he snarls. It's not like he hasn't been kicking himself about it for months, not like he doesn't _know_ that he could have been clearer. That he let her misunderstand him, and he's been too stubborn and too scared to just ask her. "I fucking wish I had, okay?" he tells her, advancing with no clear plan except that he needs to tell her, that he wants her to _understand_. "I wish I'd gotten down on one knee and--"

And suddenly, she's kissing him.

It makes sense to him in fragments: first, the feel of her hands in the front of his jacket, pulling the material taut, then the smell of her, familiar, but overwhelming this close, the feel of her pressed up against him, and then, at last, the feel of her lips, the firm press of her mouth, neither hesitant nor inexperienced and so _sure_.

It's another second after that before he can make himself move, before the shock wears off, but as soon as he does he can feel her smile, for just a second, before she opens for him, before she slides her arms around him and pulls him close and throws herself into the kiss, just as hungry and desperate as he is.

It's not all he's been thinking about for months; he's been thinking about so much more than this, about the rest of his life, but--its a good start. He thinks he could kiss her forever.

She's the one who's impatient, apparently, undoing the tie on her dress herself, and it's honestly so ridiculous he has to laugh. He was ready to pick up his entire life and move to California to get over her, and she's kissing him like all she wants to do is drag him to his bed and never leave it.

"Clarke," he says helplessly. He can't stop staring at her, flushed and gorgeous, mouth red, _in his arms_. She fits so perfectly against him.

"I thought you wanted a wife." She sounds as if she knows how absurd the sentiment is, but he does understand. He's at the age where it's expected that he'll find a wife, and he acted as if she'd do as well as anyone.

He didn't want her to think it was personal, and it's about time for him to clear it up.

"I did," he tells her, leaning in close. "I do, more every day. I want _you_."

Her smile is wry. "You could have just _said that_."

Part of him wants to point out that he proposed, but she knows that. And he does understand what she means. "I told you I wouldn't ask you to marry me again," he points out instead, and from the way her face softens, he knows she understands too.

"Bellamy," she says, like she's reminding herself he's there.

"Clarke," he agrees, kissing her jaw, her neck. He wants to find every spot she likes to be touched. He can't wait to know every inch of her. Because she's his, surely. She feels the same way he does.

"Will you marry me?" 

He jerks up to find her smiling, and his own smile is half a laugh. It's just--it's so much better than he thought it could be. He'd been so sure she'd break his heart the rest of the way. He'd been so ready for it.

He brushes a few stray hairs off her forehead. "You're not going to get down on one knee?" 

"Is this not romantic enough for you?"

She's grinning, and he can't resist kissing her again. He can't quite get over how easy it is, how she melts into him, how sure he is that she's going to follow him into his bedroom and spend the night with him. It's not just that she's going to marry him--that she _proposed_ \--but that she's, well--

She's not desperate for a husband. She's desperate to have _him_. 

"It's perfect," he tells her, when he pulls back. "Besides," he can't help teasing, "I don't think you need any more proposals."

She laughs. "No. This can be the last one." Her fingers find the lapels of his jacket again, tugging gently. "You aren't going to send me home, are you?"

"Hm?"

"Tonight. Please don't tell me you have romantic beliefs about the wedding night."

He laughs. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not very good at sending you away. If you want to stay--"

"I'm never going to want to leave," she tells him. She wets her lips, sobering suddenly. "I am sorry," she admits, soft. "I didn't know--I really thought you didn't care."

He gives her half a smile, feeling embarrassed. "That's what I wanted you to think," he admits. "I thought you'd--it was bad enough when you told me you wouldn't marry me, I didn't need you to know I was in love with you on top of that."

"I would have been nicer if I knew!" she protests.

That makes him laugh. "I didn't need you feeling sorry for me. You said you weren't going to marry me no matter what, so--"

"I was wrong," she says. "I can't wait to marry you." Before he can respond, she steps out of his arms, taking his hand instead. "I don't actually know where your bedroom is. Show me?"

He kisses her temple, squeezes her hand, feels positively stupid with happiness. "Of course," he says. "Right this way."

*

"I think this is one time you're going to have to dance with me. It's expected."

Bellamy laughs, leans over to press his lips against his wife's hair. She got it done in an elaborate crown of braids, and he's looking forward to taking it down when they're home almost as much as he's enjoying looking at her now.

He's not sure his wedding is actually better than the day Clarke asked him to marry her, but he doesn't see any reason to pit his happy memories against each other.

All the memories are happy right now, anyway. They put off the wedding long enough that Octavia could come back, and all his favorite people are here to celebrate his marriage to the woman he loves. They had a small, quiet ceremony, a nice meal, and now the dance floor is ready and the musicians are warming up.

"I don't actually mind dancing with you," he tells her, smiling.

"No?"

"Not if you want to." He leans in to press his mouth to hers. "Not if I get to keep you."

"You do. I'm all yours."

"I know." When he offers his hand, she takes it, and he can feel the ring on her finger. "So I can dance."

"As long as you're not always doing what _I_ want," she teases, and he kisses her again.

"Trust me," he says, warm against her mouth. "This is exactly what I want."


	8. I Frankly Would've Liked to Stay - Bellamy POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835928)!

The thing about Clarke is that she's like no one else Bellamy has ever had in his life. She likes him without any obligation to like him, and apparently with no misconceptions or ulterior motives. She enjoys spending time with him, doesn't get intimidated or annoyed by his moods, and seems to appreciate when he stands up to her, even when she's very determined to get her way.

She is, of course, also intelligent and beautiful and makes his whole chest feel warm, and he would like, very much, to figure out how to make it work with her. _It_ being however far he can safely get on the sliding scale from _friends_ to _lovers_. If all they ever are is good roommates who are fond of each other, he'll live, but he'd be much happier if he could at some point make out with her. 

And he's pretty sure that should not, in any way, require his addressing the TV thing. 

Honestly, _nothing_ should require his addressing the the TV thing, because the TV thing is just _not a big fucking deal_. Every time he thinks about it, he tells himself that. Everyone else tells him that too, but they never make it sound _believable_. After all, it's hard to believe when every time someone finds out that he hasn't seen whatever thing he'd just _love_ , and he says he's not interested, and it's always just--weird.

In some ways, it's become a test for him. He thought Miller would be a dick about it, but Miller just said, "Fuck, if you want to deprive yourself of cool shit, that's your call. You still play video games?" and that was it. 

With Clarke, the biggest problem is that she makes him want to like the things she likes. He's at that stage of his crush where he wants to know everything about her, and she's the kind of person who likes having the TV on. And, from what he can tell, she has pretty good taste in her media. 

So he starts asking about it slowly. If she has something he doesn't recognize on, he asks what it is, and she tells him, and that's about as far as he's gotten. Which is sad, and he's more than aware of it. But he'll come up with a second step, at some point. It really shouldn't be _that_ awkward.

But he waits too long, so it is. 

It's not strange for him to find her on the couch in her pajamas on a Saturday morning; when they first moved in together, she asked if he minded her hanging out in the living room with the TV on while he was around, and he said no, and she told him to just let him know if he ever wanted to watch something else. 

Which, of course, he never has.

He goes into to the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee, leans against the counter to watch whatever is happening on the screen. It looks like fantasy, which isn't something he sees her watching a lot, and he takes a sip of his drink before he asks, "What are you watching?"

Instead of answering, she twists around to frown at him, which is not her usual reaction. "What do you mean, what am I watching?"

He frowns right back. "I'm not sure how that question could be clearer. You even repeated it."

" _Fellowship of the Ring_ ," she says, and he doesn't wince, but that explains that. "Extended edition."

He keeps his voice casual as he pushes off the counter to lean over her instead. "Oh yeah, they made a movie of that." Whoever's on the screen is short and kind of dirty, so he makes an educated guess. "Is that Frodo?"

"That's Gimli," she says, amused.

"Oh, yeah, that makes way more sense."

He pushes off the couch, and heads to the kitchen, thinking he's escaped from the awkwardness, but then he hears, "How have you not seen this? I know you have the books. I've seen the books on your shelves."

"I just never saw them," he finally says, knowing she's not going to let it go at that. He remembers when they came out, and it was all he heard about at school for weeks. He knows the guy who plays Legolas is, like, really dreamy, and that even jock kids liked the movies, which he told himself was a sign he wouldn't have.

But he really had wanted to see them. He'd done the math over and over, making sure he really couldn't afford it, and he really couldn't. So he didn't.

He hears the movie stop, and he doesn't let himself turn around. Not even when she says, "It really just started. You should watch with me." When he still doesn't respond, she adds, " _Fellowship_ is definitely the best, but you can get mad about how they screwed up Faramir in _Two Towers_."

It's not what he was expecting her to say at all, and something in his chest relaxes. She doesn't think these movies are perfect. She's probably not even going to be offended if he complains about them. "They screwed up Faramir?"

There's a smug note in her voice that says she knows she's won. "Totally. Come on, Bellamy," she wheedles, for good measure. "I was in this fandom for a while. I can tell you all about the slash fanfic I read about Legolas and Gimli making out."

"I don't have to actually watch it for you to tell me about that," he points out, like he's not already a lost cause. She's never asked him to watch anything else before, and apparently he's not good at resisting her. "Isn't it like ten billion hours?"

"I'm sorry, did you suddenly grow a social life? Did you make plans for the weekend?"

He puts his coffee down on the table. "I need to get a book. So I can pretend I'm studying."

"Uh huh. I'll start it over."

He gets a book and sees that she's moved from the middle cushion to the left one, so he takes the right, leaving a good couple feet of space between them. The last time he watched a movie with someone, it was "watching a movie" as a clear and unmistakable excuse to make out. Which he's used to.

With Clarke, it's friendly. She puts her feet up on the coffee table and has her sketchpad in her lap, and aside from the anxious flutter in his chest, it feels like the kind of thing he could get used to. That he'd _like_ to get used to. It would be nice, being good at watching movies with Clarke.

It still takes him a while to get there.

They blaze through _The Lord of the Rings_ over the weekend, and it does go well. Bellamy has some trouble actually relaxing, but Clarke has a knack for putting him at ease. And she doesn't seem to care that he's not thrilled with the way they did Eowyn's storyline and thinks that a lot of the better speeches lost some of their impact going to screen. She has her own complaints, and there's plenty to like about the adaptation too. 

It's fun, and he wants to be happy about it, but he can't help waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Because this is not something Clarke is letting go. She's not exactly subtle about it, but she is--well, she's _cool_ about it, thinking about what he'll like and why he might like it. He assumes she talked to his sister, which is weird, but flattering, and it comes across as something she wants to share with him.

It's nice, it just feels like only a matter of time before he hits something that makes it awkward.

"I've never seen a Mad Max movie," he tells her, in line for _Fury Road_. Just to test the waters.

"Neither have I, but assholes on the internet are boycotting this one because it has too many women, so how bad can it be? And I don't think there's a ton of plot we have to follow."

"Wait," he says, holding up his hand. "That's a thing?"

"Which part?"

"People boycott movies because they have too many women?"

"Have we talked about the _Ghostbusters_ reboot?" she asks, sounding thoughtful, and maybe that's why this thing is working for him. It's not just that she wants to share this stuff with him, it's that she knows what he's going to be interested.

She's _working_ at it, and it's hard to feel anything but grateful and happy about that.

"You haven't," he says, shifting a little closer. "Do we have time?"

"Not for _all_ of it. But I'm not going anywhere."

He bites the corner of his mouth. "No. So, tell me about _Ghostbusters_."

*

He actually really likes the anime. Not just because it's cool, but because Clarke hasn't seen a lot of it either, so he feels less pressure. If he was watching Clarke's favorite movie and hating it, he'd feel bad, but he likes forming opinions with her, or seeing her rediscover something she'd largely forgotten, enough so that when she says they're on their last Ghibli movie, he's honestly disappointed.

"I don't know anything about this one," Clarke says, making a face. " _Grave of the Fireflies_. Watch or skip it?"

"We've got it, why would we skip it?" 

She looks so _happy_ that he wishes he could just be normal about this. That he could just forget his random spikes of anxiety and watch things as casually as she does.

But he's still kind of a weird anxious mess, so that's all he's got.

"Yeah," she agrees. "I've heard it's good."

And part of Bellamy can recognize that it _is_ good. Quality isn't the issue. But Clarke has been sticking, largely, to fun, somewhat fantastical stuff. Most of the movies were at least a little emotional, but _Grave of the Fireflies_ is a war movie, and it's a war movie that _starts_ with a little boy dying after he fails to save his younger sister's life, and that's nothing like any of the other things they've watched together.

It's not an unfamiliar feeling, recognizing himself in media. He does it in books and in songs, in the things he interacts with on his own. He likes it, even when it hurts, the familiarity, the assurance that he's not alone.

But, left to his own devices, he might not have experienced it with _Clarke_. He's not one of those people who thinks that guys crying is bad, or damaging to their masculinity, but there is something _awkward_ about crying in front of another person, even quietly. They feel obligated to react in some way, and he wouldn't have put that burden on her. It's awkward, and he's never thought of her as someone who feels very at home with comforting people.

Then, she reaches over and takes his hand, making his heartbeat spike. Her palm is soft on top of his, her grip gentle, as if she just wants to remind him she's here. He swallows hard, unable to take his eyes off the TV, and lets his hand turn over so he can squeeze her back. Part of him wants to say something, to explain himself, but Clarke probably understands.

For the first time, he feels sure: she's on his side. She's going to stay on his side.

He doesn't have anything good to say about the movie, nothing that feels _right_. He liked it, but the words feel inaccurate and inadequate all at once. It was like watching another version of himself, a life he might have had, the life he _beat_. He and Octavia survived. He kept them alive.

So he clears his throat to get the tears out of his voice and asks, "Do you have easy access to that cop show?"

"Cop show?"

"The one with the hot angry latina." She watches it a lot in the background, and he always likes what he hears. One time a guy actually said the word _transphobic_. He didn't think that happened on TV shows.

Her smile isn't patronizing at all; if anything, she looks glad there's something she can do. "Yeah, it's on Hulu."

"Could we watch an episode of that? Just--"

She squeezes his hand when his voice gives out. "Sounds good."

Then she lets go, which kind of sucks. He's excited for the show, but he'd be more excited without the cushion of space between them, if she were curled up into his side. It would make him feel so much better.

When she's done, she puts the remote aside and lets her hand fall back on the cushion between them. It could be a coincidence; it could mean nothing. But if she can have a campaign to get him familiar with pop culture, he can have his own, private counter-campaign, one where he tries to figure out how to, someday, date her.

So he reaches back, takes her hand, and sees her smile a little.

Maybe it won't even be that hard.

*

Of course, the thing about his plan is that it involves a lot of risk. If making a move on Clarke goes wrong, his whole life is kind of ruined. He has other friends, of course, other people he cares about, but--he _adores_ Clarke, like he's never adored anyone else. If it works out, it's going to be amazing. If it doesn't, he'll still have to live with her, and with the knowledge that she doesn't want him.

"Or you could, you know, get a girlfriend," Miller says. "I hear that's good, if you're into it. And she's cool and likes all your weird shit. It's been long enough she's probably not even just into you for your body."

"I'm not worried about that. I'm worried she's not into me at all."

"Dude. You've had other roommates, right? You get that this isn't normal."

"It's not about roommates. It's about her. She could be like this with all her roommates. She finds out something is weird and has to fix it. That's how she is."

"She can do that and still be into you," Miller says. "Which, again, I'm pretty sure she is. Her signals are not subtle. She looks at your mouth a lot."

"Why do _you_ know that?" 

"Monty and I have a drinking game. Once you're dating someone, the stress about them not liking you goes away and you have to make your own fun."

He rubs his face. "I'm going to tell her. I can do that thing where I yawn and put my arm around her, right? That's what people do during movies."

"How do you know that but not what _The Terminator_ is?"

"I assume it's a guy who terminates things," he says. "Is it going to help me hit on Clarke? If it doesn't, I don't care."

"It probably could. You need all the help you can get."

He leans back, closing his eyes. "I'm going to figure it out any day. Just wait."

"I'm not holding my breath," says Miller, and Bellamy inclines his head without straightening it up.

"Yeah, I wouldn't suggest it."

*

When he's still working on figuring out how to subtly shift into Clarke and put his arm around her during a movie, they hit the _Star Wars_ issue.

It's weird to think of _Star Wars_ as an issue, but lots of people _love_ Star Wars, and he knows Clarke is one of them. She doesn't make a huge deal of it or anything, but she has a Darth Vader mug that her dad gave her before he died, and she actually owns the DVDs, which is pretty rare for her. She usually just streams things.

It seemed pretty unlikely that he'd be able to avoid it coming up _ever_ , but he hoped he'd be able to avoid it coming up until he was sure she liked him. When he didn't think it could ruin things.

It's so _stupid_. He knows it is.

He's at the stove, working on dinner, when it finally comes up, and he doesn't even _notice_. He did know _May the force be with you_ was a thing, but his primary association with the word _force_ isn't the _Star Wars_ franchise, so he runs through a list of things it could be and finally guesses, "Is that a band?"

He'll maintain it's a good guess. They don't usually buy movie tickets that much in advance. And she seems to expect him to know what it is, which isn't usually how she acts about movies. Plus, he knew there was a new _Star Wars_ coming at some point, but he thought it wasn't for a while, and he didn't know the name.

But then Clarke says, slow, "It's the new _Star Wars_ ," and he tries and fails not to wince.

"Huh," he says, careful.

There's a pause, and then he feels her by his side, so close he could hook his arm around her waist if he wanted to. Which, he does, but--not right now.

"You know I don't care, right?" she asks, because she does know him. "You haven't seen movies, big deal. It's kind of nice. I get to show you all my favorite stuff and you've never seen it before. I get to see you seeing it for the first time."

He's heard that before, but he does believe it from Clarke. She seems equally delighted when he enjoys things and when he complains, but--he _wants_ to love the things she loves. He wants to have these things in common.

"Octavia told you," he says, mostly to see what she'll say. Of course she talked to Octavia about it, but--he doesn't know exactly what Clarke thought was important. Or what Octavia assumes about why he's so stubborn about these things.

"Just that you guys didn't have a TV when you were kids," she says, with an easy shrug. "And that she gets annoyed with people asking her why she hasn't seen stuff."

He nods, looks at her sidelong. "I know all the spoilers."

"For what?"

" _Star Wars_. Darth Vader is Luke's father. Luke and Leia are siblings. The prequels are shit. Jar Jar Binks is the worst." He scrambles for any other knowledge of the franchise and comes up wit, "Uh, Yoda," which at least makes her laugh.

"You think Yoda is a spoiler?"

"He's not? I feel like once I saw him, there wasn't much point in anything else."

"Yeah, we all feel that way about Yoda." She nods, as if this was a discussion, and now they're on the same page. "So, this weekend, right? You and me, _Star Wars_ marathon. You were a space kid. I bet you haven't seen _Star Trek_ either," she adds, perking up again. She sounds _gleeful_ , and all he really wants is to make her happy.

He wants this to be as fun as she thinks it will be.

"I thought you weren't allowed to like both," he says, wary.

"I'm a rebel." She taps her jaw. "I think you'd like DS9, that's the one that's got, like--it's the one that's good if you don't have the benefit of nostalgia."

"You're making this sound great." 

"I try to be realistic," she says, and he knows that's true too. She's been working so hard at this. She's been so careful.

And now she wants to jump in the deep end with _Star Wars_.

"I might not like it."

"We don't have to watch DS9."

"I meant _Star Wars_ ," he says. "Is that going to be a problem? You going to have to move out?"

Her smile is a little patronizing, and he has to admit he deserves it. "I'll live. But I think you're going to like it."

"I had this girlfriend in high school," he lets himself admit. It's one of those stories that he feels hurt him more than it should have, that he doesn't _like_ caring about. But she was the first girl he'd ever really _dated_ , instead of fooling around, and he'd liked her. He'd thought they had something good. Now, he knows that it wouldn't have lasted anyway, but--it was easy for him to get attached back then. He was so greedy for affection. "She found out I liked the _Harry Potter_ books, but I'd never seen the movie, and she was--like you, I guess." It's not true, not really; he doesn't think Clarke will be anything like Roma was. But he needs to hear her say she's not. "She was really excited she got to show them to me. And I fucking hated the first movie," he admits, with a wry smile. "I always kind of saw Harry as, uh--I thought he'd look more like me, and no one else looked like I pictured them either and it just--I thought it was shitty, I didn't want to watch the rest, she got pissed, and we broke up. Over a stupid _Harry Potter_ movie. And it's not like I really cared," he adds, which isn't exactly true either. He wants to not care, but everyone else always makes him feel like he has to. Just because Clarke does it in a nice way doesn't mean he can stop fretting. Fretting is what he _does_. "But I did get sick of it. I haven't seen some stuff. Who cares?"

She leans her forehead against his shoulder blade, warm and affectionate. "I kind of like it when you hate stuff," she tells him. "It's fun."

"Yeah, I've noticed. But--you like _Star Wars_."

"Yup," she says, without a trace of worry.

"I want to like it."

"Maybe you will." There's a pause, and then she adds, deliberate, "I'm not going to break up with you if you don't like _Star Wars_ , Bellamy."

"We're not dating," he says, voice a little dry. It doesn't even feel true, right now. It feels as if he could kiss her, and she'd slide into his arms and not leave. "So that would be tough. Do we have to watch the prequels?"

"I'm going to do some research," she declares, because of course she is, and he loves her.

"Research?" he asks, and lets himself hope it's going to be okay as she walks him through her plan.

_Star Wars_ is really long, after all. He can definitely stretch and wrap his arm around her at some point.

*

He blames his actual excitement about the whole thing for his slip-up with Octavia. They're on their weekly check-in call, and when she asks him if he's doing anything special over the weekend, he tells her, "Watching _Star Wars_ with Clarke," without thinking about it.

During the long pause, he remembers that his sister has tried, on multiple occasions, to convince him to watch _Star Wars_ , for his own edification. Half of his refusal to see those movies, specifically, was just to piss her off.

If anyone had asked him, he would have said he assumed Octavia knew he was in love with Clarke. He sort of assumes _everyone_ knows. It's a both minor miracle and annoyance that Clarke seems to have missed it. So it doesn't really feel like this should be a _surprise_ for her. She should be able to figure it out.

"All of them?" is what she finally asks.

"You didn't think I had a social life, did you?" He shrugs, even though she can't see it. "Might as well get it over with. She wants to go to the new one, so--"

"So that _is_ a thing."

"I don't know what you were expecting, you had your hot friend move in with me. Obviously I have a thing for her. I thought you knew."

"You're such a mess, Bell," she says. "If you like _Star Wars_ , I'm never going to let you live it down."

"Cool," he says. "I'll deserve it."

*

Despite his best efforts to sleep in, he wakes up stupidly early on Saturday. At least the problem isn't really nerves about not liking _Star Wars_ ; he's basically fine with however that turns out. But the event feels significant, and he's got his mind half set on today being _it_. He's going to make a move on Clarke, somehow.

But she's not even awake yet, so if his brain would just shut the fuck up about it, that would be great. He gathers some of his thesis stuff to work on to distract himself, getting set up on the couch fairly happily. He's going for cool and casual, but of course as soon as Clarke comes out, she calls him out on it, which is fine. He wasn't really planning to keep the books once she was awake, he just needed something to do with his hands.

He gets the stuff put away and is settled back in by the time she's ready with coffee and cereal, and he can see her thinking for a second before she sits directly next to him, close enough that he can feel the heat coming off her side.

So they're on the same page. That's good.

"Okay, so," he says, shifting so he can get more comfortable, putting his arm behind her on the couch, but not really around her shoulders. "What's the plan? Did you figure out the optimal order to watch these in?"

"Machete order, basically," she says, like this will mean something to him. His expression must give him away, because she counts off on her fingers. "Episode four, episode five, episode two, episode three, episode six. And instead of watching _The Phantom Menace_ , we just listen to the Weird Al "American Pie" parody song, which is way better."

"Cool. Which one is your favorite?"

She flashes him a grin. "Why, do you want to be nice to it?"

"Kind of, yeah."

Apparently it's the right answer, because she actually starts _snuggling_ with him, which is the best kind of alarming. She's warm and smells like day-old shampoo, and it's the kind of perfect, comfortable morning he'd like to have every weekend.

" _Return of the Jedi_ ," she says. "I think the Ewoks are cute. Apparently this is a really unpopular opinion on the internet." She flashes him another bright smile. "I got in some fights while I was looking into this, so you better appreciate it."

"My hero," he says, getting his arm around her shoulders. "Are people against cute things?"

Clarke trades her cereal for the remote. "Not exactly. Just, you know. _Star Wars_ is at its best when it's all serious and about a lack of hope for the future or something. Which is bullshit, especially given the first movie is called _A New Hope_. That's setting an optimistic tone."

"The first movie or the fourth movie?"

"Fourth movie."

"That's definitely needlessly confusing, for the record."

"Yeah, I think it was supposed to be kind of exciting? The ultimate in media res. But it gets weird to talk about."

He lets himself rest his cheek on her hair. "What's the one coming out soon that we have to see? What episode, I mean. Negative five?"

"Seven," she says, fond. "Okay, first disclaimer."

"Jesus, already?"

She ignores him. "These are the new versions, so I'm going to yell at the screen about how George Lucas is a hack any time one of the new scenes is on."

"Perfect. This is a lot of text. Do I need to be reading it?"

"No, you're fine. Evil empire, no hope, the usual."

"Is Yoda the new hope?"

She laughs. "No, Yoda is his sled." There's a pause. "You get that reference from just being alive, right?"

" _Citizen Kane_?" he hazards.

"Yeah. Which I've never actually seen. We should watch it. Grow as people."

"That sounds awful. The ships are pretty cool," he adds, hesitant. Effects don't always work for him, but he can imagine how cool the opening would look on a big screen, how all-consuming.

"That's a Star Destroyer," she says. "Evil empire ship."

"Evil empires get all the cool ships." He slides his arm further down, around her waist, and she finishes up the last few bites of cereal and puts the bowl down so she can curl against his chest.

He could definitely get used to this. And he even thinks he'll have the chance to.

*

He misses Yoda's first appearance, but it's definitely not his _fault_. He's trying to figure out when he should be tugging Clarke into his lap to kiss her, and it's hard to plan that when he's never seen the movie. And he is _enjoying_ the movie. It's just that the girl he's in love with is tangled in his arms and they're holding hands and he's not sure there's a movie in the world that could distract him from that. Especially given what a great angle he has to look down her tank top right now.

"I was expecting more of a reaction," she says.

He starts, guilty. "What?"

"Yoda. I know he's your top priority."

He squints at the screen. Luke is on some kind of weird gray swamp planet, and everything seems bad.

Then he sees the weird green thing.

"Holy shit, is that him?"

Clarke is laughing. "I thought you knew what he looked like!"

"I thought he'd be bigger. And brighter green. And--wow. That's a lot."

She squeezes his fingers. "Everything you dreamed?"

"Honestly, yeah. What's he made out of? Is there an actor in there?"

"I think he's a puppet."

"Wow. That's awesome."

"I'm glad he lives up to expectations. He and Luke are going to do a training montage."

"He's a teacher?"

"Jedi master."

"Huh."

"See, you didn't get spoiled for everything."

"Not everything," he agrees, turning his focus to their linked hands. "I didn't see this one coming."

*

"Fun fact, Weird Al actually wrote that song before the movie came out based on Internet spoilers," Clarke tells him, once they're finished with the musical recap of the first episode. If it's really accurate, he doesn't feel like he's missing that much. He has yet to develop any emotional attachment to Anakin Skywalker.

"And I'll never know how accurate it is."

"You can watch the first one. I won't stop you."

"What's the point if you're not watching it with me?" he asks without thinking, and he's rewarded with a smile and slight flush.

"Suffering is better together," she agrees. "Okay. Episode two?"

"Sure," he says.

He'd like to say he gives the movie a fair try, but he honestly just doesn't. Clarke doesn't like it, and it's not like he's doing this just to impress her, but if she's not engaged, he isn't going to be either. 

Besides, she just keeps getting _closer_ to him, and even if he didn't basically want to marry her, he'd be dealing with some noticeable physical reactions.

"Do I need to care about this?" he asks. Pre-Vader and his girlfriend are flirting. Maybe. It's probably _supposed_ to be flirting, but Han and Leia were a lot more convincing.

"Yes, this is--" She makes a face. "Honestly, I can't even think of a fake reason to care. I honestly have no idea what happens in this--"

He catches her jaw and tugs her mouth to his, swallowing the end of her sentence. She laughs into the kiss, this bright, pleased sound, and repositions so she can reciprocate without hurting her neck. He mouth is soft and warm and perfect, and she's pressing in close, like she wouldn't have been able to wait much longer either.

"This is because I'm bored and you're all over me," he tells her, trying not to grin too hard. "Not because the movie is romantic. I just want that to be clear."

"Because you're bored?" she asks, amused, and he nips her neck.

"We need to be dating by the time we're watching _Return of the Jedi_ so you can dump me when I don't like it," he teases. "So I was working on a pretty short timetable."

Clarke looks like she's going to say something, but she leans in first, and he can't help kissing her again, and it turns into making out basically instantly, warm and perfect, making his whole chest light up. She's so warm and eager on top of him, so perfect.

"That's probably not going to happen," she murmurs, and there's a split second of total panic before she laughs softly and noses his jaw. "I meant dumping you, not dating you. I don't think there's anything you can say about _Return of the Jedi_ to make me stop liking you."

He wasn't actually _worried_ , not with any conscious part of his brain, because he knows her, and he knows she wouldn't be doing this if she wasn't serious. So it's easy to laugh and let his hands find the hem of her shirt, pulling it off when she obligingly raises her arms. "Sounds like a challenge." he says, giving her another kiss. "What if I hate the Ewoks?"

"I'll live."

"What if I think the entire franchise is a waste?"

"You like Princess Leia, so I know you don't." 

"What if I--"

"What if instead of talking about _Star Wars_ , we had sex?" she suggests, grinding down on him with a wicked smirk. "Don't get me wrong, it's fun and all, but--come on, Bellamy. It's just a movie."

He laughs, sliding his hands up her back to unhook her bra. "Yeah," he agrees. "Just a movie."


	9. In the Darkness of My Night, In the Brightness of My Day - Bellamy POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11671710)!

Here is what Bellamy Blake is hoping to see when he finally gets back to Earth: his sister, asking him what the hell took him so long. It doesn't seem like an unreasonable hope; he's late, and Octavia should be fine. She was in the bunker. It was supposed to keep her safe.

But he's still plagued with other visions, other possibilities. A dead Earth, or an unsurvivable one. A revolution waged under the ground, his sister ousted from power and killed, his friends too. He can so easily imagine a world where no one he loved survived, instead of just the one he knows didn't.

Echo hasn't been particularly comforting about it either, not that he expected that. She seems perfectly willing to believe that Sky Crew took over and made some controversial choice that turned everyone against them, and Bellamy has to admit, this would not be at all out of character. Jaha is under there; anything could happen.

It's why she's the most natural person to go with him when they make landfall. If there was a problem, she's the one who can talk to her people. Emori was an outcast; Echo was a respected warrior.

So at least they've got that going for them.

It takes a minute for everyone to get their bearings after impact, but Raven's the first to recover, of course. She catches his eye, and when she jerks her head to the door, he nods.

No point in waiting.

"Echo, you're with me," he says. She and Emori have been half-losing their minds; she'd jump out of the ship blindfolded and naked if she had to. Anything would be better than this. "Everyone else, cover us."

Raven rolls her eyes. "What do you think you're going to find?"

Given the luck he's had, Bellamy would honestly not be shocked if there was some entirely new faction of people waiting on the ground to murder them. The survivors of the second apocalypse, grounders 2.0. Now with more murder.

But he's not going to tell anyone else that.

"If any animals survived, they might be in bad shape," he says instead. "And the people from the bunker might not know it's us. If I were them, I'd be on guard."

"How many ships do you think are coming down?" Murphy asks, because it's apparently his turn to be insubordinate. Sometimes he wishes he'd been in space with more people who actually respected authority figures, but at least he knows it's not personal.

And he does have Echo on his side. She's good with leaders.

"Shut up and cover us," he tells Murphy, and Murphy puts his hands up in surrender. "Echo?"

She nods, but he's the first to jump out, and his heart sinks at the sight of _nothing_. No Octavia, no grounders, no animals. Just trees and sky. It's an improvement over the Ark, but it's not what he wanted. It's not his sister, alive and waiting for him. 

Echo's not behind him, but she does have her gun out and trained on the empty forest, so he turns to help her down. She's a little unsteady on her feet, staggering a little at the feel of earth under her feet again, and he holds her elbow until she's steady.

"Anything?" she asks, barely a breath, and he shakes his head, eyes still darting around. There could be someone hidden, but not _many_ people. There aren't so many trees that could really give cover.

So they seem to be alone, and he's about to tell everyone else to come down when there's a movement. Echo's already got her gun up and trained on the space where--

"Don't shoot me."

The space where Clarke is.

His first thought is that he's wrong. That it's _not_ her, that it can't be. It's someone else, someone with her voice and her face. Someone who's a little thinner than she is, six years older, her hair shorter, patched with red.

His gun drops, and it's a miracle it doesn't fire. If he could move, he'd recover it, but all he can do is stare at her.

_Clarke_.

When Raven says, "Holy shit, Clarke?" it feels like his words, the ones he couldn't get out, and even from this distance, he can see tension leaving her shoulders.

He'd done his very best to never let himself think Clarke could be alive, not because he didn't want her to be, but because it felt like such a _pointless_ fantasy. Octavia might actually be alive, but there'd been no chance at all, he thought, that Clarke might make it. And when he wanted to punish himself, he thought about how he'd left her, how she must have died in pain, how he'd never hear her voice or see her face again. How she was gone from the universe, and she'd never come back. Death had never felt so final as it did with Clarke.

"You're late," she tells him, and he's glad he laughs instead of crying. It's a close thing.

He still can't move, but his voice is working. "If we'd known you were waiting, we would have come down sooner," he says, and her own smile is as wide as his.

"I tried to tell you, but you weren't answering the radio, so--"

He could tell her they didn't know there was anyone to talk to, but they could go all night with that, and it doesn't matter. He wishes he'd known, but he didn't, and she's _here_. If his legs would just work, he could go to her, but he doesn't know how. There's six years gaping between them.

And it's not like she's coming to him either.

So he says, "Sorry. Just you?"

She catches her lip in her teeth, not a sign of _good news_ , unless her tells have changed too. Everything could be different, now. If she's been alone all this time, she's probably--he'd be mostly crazy.

But she's not alone anymore.

"No," she says, to his relief. "Not just me. There's--" She looks away. "A lot to tell you."

"Screw that," says Raven, and Bellamy jumps, realizing everyone else unloaded while he was busy staring. They're all watching Clarke, and she's watching them too, cataloging changes. "We haven't seen you in six years," she adds. "Get over here."

Clarke's surprised laugh is the best thing he's ever heard. She comes to hug Raven easily, makes her way through all of them, and part of him is glad she's coming to him last, so he can hold her for as long as he wants without anyone else waiting.

Part of him is terrified. Part of him is sure she'll dissolve into smoke and dust when he touches her.

She lets go of Echo and comes to stand in front of him, and he takes her in again, catching the small details of her face, recommitting her to memory where the sight of her had faded.

"Hi," he breathes, and she smiles.

"Hi."

He thinks the hug is supposed to be quick. She steps in the same as she did with everyone else, and he tells himself he's going to let her go. They can hug each other casually, like friends do. He's fine with casual affection. There was a lot of it on the Ark; sometimes it felt like his arm was always around someone, someone always leaning over his back, pressing their knee against his. Raven's feet in his lap, Monty asleep on his shoulder.

But Clarke sighs when he pulls her in, sinks into him as if she'll never leave, and he hopes she doesn't. He can feel her tears against her neck, and he rubs circles on his back, makes soft, soothing noises, overwhelmed like he never thought he would be again. 

"Clarke," he says, his voice nearly breaking on her name. She's just been _her_ for six years, whenever he talked about her. He could barely even think her name. "Fuck, I can't believe," he admits. "I thought--"

"Me too," she breathes. "I thought you weren't coming back."

"I know. I'm so sorry." The sentiment feels inadequate, but he's sure she knows as well as he does that he couldn't have known, that she understands.

She's still Clarke. They have to still get each other.

She nods a little into his shoulder, arms tightening around him, and he props her chin on her hair. The rest of the crew are giving them something like privacy, working on getting their things out of the ship, and he's grateful for the gesture. At some point, he's going to have to do something aside from holding Clarke, but he's not looking forward to it.

It's her that pulls away first, when the radio on her hip crackles. There's no message, just static, and she jumps, pulls back, mutters, "Fuck," under her breath as she swipes a hand across her eyes to clear the last of her tears.

"Bad news?" he asks. It's got to be the bunker, and his anxiety rushes back. His sister is somewhere, and he was so distracted with Clarke he didn't even think to ask what happened to her.

"No, just--another long story." She flashes him a weary smile. "Give me a second."

His stomach twinges with irrational hurt and jealousy, but he pushes it down. Clarke has business of her own. Just because she wouldn't have needed to talk to anyone privately six years ago, it doesn't mean she doesn't have that need _now_. He doesn't even know who's on the other end of the radio. It could be his sister, or her mother, or Kane, or Indra, or some new leader who emerged under the ground, someone he's never met at all.

She'll tell him later, probably. So gives her arm a final squeeze, reassuring himself that she's solid and real in front of him, and then turns his attention to everyone else. "Let's get unloaded," he says. There isn't much left to do--they don't have a lot of stuff--but they can find something to occupy them. "I assume none of us want to spend another night sleeping in the ship."

Emori shudders, and he doesn't think it's on purpose. "Never again."

It does make him smile. "I thought not."

Monty catches him when they're both at the back of the ship, gathering the algae in case food is scarce. Clarke's been surviving, so he has trouble believing there's nothing better to eat down here. It's hard to believe there's anything _worse_.

"Are you okay?" he asks, all concern.

"Of course I'm okay." It's not enough, of course, Monty still waiting for the rest of the answer, and he gives up. "She's _alive_. I can't believe it. I never thought--"

"I know. I can't believe it either. Do you think it was the nightblood?"

"It must have been. Unless she found another bunker." He rubs his face. "Fuck. I didn't even ask her about O. Or anyone else."

"She's not going anywhere," says Monty. "You can ask later."

He can't be sure it's true, of course. With other people here, Clarke has her own priorities, her own responsibilities. He can't be sure that the two of them won't be pulled apart, in different directions.

But he's not going to let that happen if he can help it.

"Yeah," he says. "We can figure it out."

*

Clarke's daughter is small and a little scuffed up, basically what he would have expected from a girl who grew up in a world recovering from something horrible. She's not quite an orphan, not with Clarke, but isn't _not_ one, and if he were her, he'd be terrified of all these new people too. Especially since they're already Clarke's _friends_. It's like his mother bringing home a new boyfriend when he was a kid, except there are seven of them, and Clarke likes then varying amounts.

He's trying to come up with the perfect way to greet her, to tell her that they're going to be good, that they're happy to meet her, but he takes too long, so instead Echo's the first to address her, with a completely unimpressed, "Delphi clan."

He should have just settled for _hi_. That would have been more than sufficient.

Murphy chimes in before he can too, but at least he says the right thing, for once. "Not your best first impression. Which is saying something."

"Neither of you should talk to kids," says Raven, and she's the first to go to the girl. Bellamy's still having trouble with making his legs work. He doesn't want to assume he's welcome where he isn't, even if the only place he wants to be is in the middle of Clarke's life again. "You're Madi, right?" Raven goes on. "Thanks for taking care of Clarke."

"I'm Madi," she says. Her eyes flick to Raven's leg, and then she scans the rest of them. "And you're Raven."

"That's me. You want to guess everyone else?"

He doesn't think it's his imagination that she's focusing on him more, and he wonders if it's because she knows who he is, or because she can't figure it out. If Clarke told her about Raven, she would have told her about him too. He's not unaware of his own importance to her. 

Madi's eyes leave him again. "Harper," she says first. "Emori, with the tattoos on her face. Echo. Monty, burned hands. Murphy. And Bellamy," she finishes, her dark eyes heavy on him. "The hundred-and-first."

It's not how he would have identified himself, but he doesn't know how that would be, honestly. Curly hair? Freckles? He doesn't know what Clarke would have mentioned, in terms of distinguishing features.

But it doesn't matter; she's right. He makes himself move, goes over to shake her hand, like Raven did. "Nice to meet you. Sorry we took so long."

She shrinks away, just a little, and something in him breaks in a quiet, inevitable way. It's okay if Madi doesn't like him, but he _wants_ her to. She's Clarke's daughter, and he already loves her. He loves everything Clarke does, for her sake.

But of course she needs time. He can give that to her.

He nods to himself and straightens, turning his attention to away from her again. Not _just_ to Clarke, but mostly there. She's watching him, looking about as nervous as he feels. That's something. "Okay. Is there still stuff to hunt? Is it safe?"

Her expression relaxes into a smile. "Some. And I don't know how safe it is, but we've been eating it and it hasn't killed us yet."

He shakes his head. "I don't even care. Anything other than algae would be great now." He looks around, considering. Monty's hands work, but the radiation scars still hurt him, and Raven's leg is probably aching. He wants Clarke to come with him, but it kind of defeats the purpose of giving Madi some space if she's alone with strangers. "Echo, Harper, Murphy, Emori, you guys come with me. I assume Clarke and Madi don't have enough to feed all of us for long. Let's see if we can find anything. Any warnings?" he can't help asking Clarke. "Do you want to come?"

She glances to Madi, just a little and he knew she wouldn't say yes, but he still wishes _he_ could stay. The others could handle it, but it feels so obvious. Clarke's been not only surviving for six years, she's been keeping Madi alive too. She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and she doesn't need him hovering.

When he gets back, she'll still be here. He can go.

"I'll let you handle it," she says, unnecessarily. "We'll get beds set up for you." She looks him up and down, anxiety written all over her own features as she takes him in. "A few bears survived, watch out for those. And make sure the miners don't follow you back, if you see them. They usually don't come back here, but--"

He has to smile. "We'll be careful." He lets himself give her shoulder a quick squeeze, such a small thing that feels so huge. He'd tie himself to her, if it wouldn't be incredibly weird. "Back soon."

She gives him the radio, which goes a long way towards easing his worry. If anything happens to her, she can call them. Not that he's expecting a disaster, but he still feels as if she must be a dream. It's nice to have tangible proof of her.

And it's fucking good to be back on the _ground_. He understands it for Echo and Emori, who have lived here their whole lives, for whom the Ark felt like a punishment, but Bellamy's spent the vast majority of his life on the Ark. It was less than a year that he was on the ground, but this is still home to him. 

He feels more like himself than he has in years.

Echo's the first to turn the conversation back to Clarke, once they're done talking about how the terrain has changed and what resources look like. "She seems to have done well for herself," she offers, and he doesn't have to ask who she means.

"She's a survivor," he says. "But she does better with someone to protect. It's good she had Madi."

"You were right, she is Skaikru. If there is a power struggle, she'll be on our side."

He glances at her. They split into groups for hunting, so it's just the two of them, and he doesn't have to worry about anyone else being upset by the conversation. "Do you think there was?" 

"A power struggle? Almost certainly. Twelve hundred enemies stuck under the ground together for six years--I wouldn't have wanted to be down there."

"You would have stayed if O let you."

"Perhaps. But I don't think I would have been happier."

"We're glad we had you too," he teases, and she rolls her eyes.

"I think I ended up with the better situation," she says. "But I know you don't think that."

He frowns. "No?"

"You were away from your sister and from Clarke. I assume you would have rather been with either of them."

It's a fair assumption, but the bunker does sound like a nightmare. He would have gone, but--he wishes he'd been with Clarke and Madi. If he had his choice of where he spent the last five years, he would have been a nightblood too, and he would have waited for her, even not knowing if she survived.

"The important thing is that we're all alive," he says. "And we're going to actually eat meat for dinner tonight. That's all I need."

"Very convincing. If you want anyone else to believe you, you should practice saying that."

"Shut up," he says, without heat. "I think I see a squirrel."

*

"Okay," says Madi, looking over the meat with a critical eye. "I guess we should have a nice meal tonight, right?"

Clarke is smiling, still a little faint, but fond and real. "We have nice meals every night."

"But we should use the fresh meat, not the salted. We'll save the salted for breakfast tomorrow. And--it's a celebration, right?"

"It's a celebration, yeah. And Bellamy's tired of algae," she adds, flashing him a smile.

"Yeah." She worries her lip, looking more like Clarke's kid than ever. "I've never cooked for this many people before, so I'm going to need help. Who's good at cooking?"

Bellamy isn't, particularly, but he's not _bad_ and, more importantly, whoever's cooking will get on Madi's good side, and that's where he wants to be. So he says, "I'll cook," and ignores the pointed looks he gets. It seems pointless to pretend he's _not_ trying to win over Clarke's kid. No one would believe him. "What do you need?"

"More volunteers," she says, and ropes Clarke, Harper, and Murphy into helping too, in that effortless way kids can make adults do things simply by telling them that this is how it's going to be.

"You can get the meat ready," she tells him, magnanimous. "I'm not good at the skinning."

"No?" he asks. "What part are you bad at?"

"Getting the skin off," she says, like this should be obvious.

"Yeah, I got that. I can probably teach you to do it better, if you want."

"Not right now, I need to work on the rest of dinner. But we have to salt the rest of the meat after," she adds. "You can show me then, if you want."

"I'd be happy to," he says, and finds Clarke, who's already watching them, eyes warm. She looks away, a flush on her neck, and his stomach swoops with the sudden hope that six years might not be too long. "Any time."

"Good," says Madi, and nods once. "Let me know when you're done with this and I'll give you something else to do."

"Perfect," he says, and means it.

*

The thing about being in love with Clarke is that it's always been easy because it fits so naturally into the other parts of his life. It's not something he's used to; ever since he was a kid, he knew he had to keep his family separate from his school life, that he couldn't get close to people or trust them for fear of what might happen to his sister. Even on the ground, his relationships had felt unmoored from the rest of him, sometimes. Gina had been lovely and warm and he'd liked her, but he never knew how to really be completely with her.

He and Clarke are a team, first and foremost, and six years hasn't changed that. It's a relief, but it also makes the whole thing feel both hopeless and inescapable. He can't avoid Clarke and wouldn't want to, but for every moment of certainty he has that she could feel the same as he does, when her eye catches his or her gaze lingers on him, there's another of some strange distance, of her leaving when he'd like her to stay, her absence when he expects her to be by his side.

It would probably help, to be so busy, except that he's always busy _with_ her. He doesn't want to escape Clarke, but it might be easier to figure out what was happening if he saw her either more or less. As it is, he feels like he never has _quite_ enough time to get his bearings.

At least everyone else is confused too. Raven, in particular, seems annoyed at her inability to get a read on Clarke, which doesn't exactly make him feel better. It's kind of sweet that all his friends are rooting for him, but the fact that they all agree Clarke is acting a little strange isn't really a comfort.

Then again, when he complains about it to Murphy, he says, "It's been six years, maybe you just don't get her anymore," and, honestly, anything is better than hearing _that_.

He doesn't even think she's right. All else aside, he still knows Clarke. And he'll be the first to admit, they're plenty busy without romantic entanglements getting in the way. He can figure out what's going on with Clarke later. If nothing else, Monty seems to have been right: she shows no sign that she's going anywhere.

Oddly enough, it's his sister who actually calls him out on it. Everyone else seems willing to just wait for him to come to them.

"Is Clarke mad at you?" she asks, and he has to smile. She _is_ a ruler, and a good one, which doesn't exactly surprise him, but he likes these reminders that under the new cloak of dignity and authority, she's still his brat of a little sister.

"I don't think so. Why?"

"I guess not _mad_ at you. But shouldn't you guys be on happily ever after by now?"

"Aren't we?" he asks, and the question is genuine. He knows what she means, but he doesn't need to be getting laid to be happy, and even with complications and headaches, his life is probably the best it's ever been. No looming threat, no impending war, and a group of people who are all trying for the same thing, even if they don't agree on the right way to achieve it. He's lost people and it aches, but his sister is alive, Clarke is alive, everyone survived the Ark, and Madi is doing well. 

The _ever after_ is always going to be a point of contention, but he's got his best start yet on the _happy_ part.

"You know what I mean," she says, which is true too.

"My top priority isn't exactly getting laid right now."

"Why not?" 

He'd assumed she was going to tell him he obviously didn't _just_ want to get laid, so the question pulls him up short."What?"

"You thought she was dead for six years, Bell, and she's _not_. Why are you wasting time not being with her?"

It hadn't occurred to him to put Clarke in the context of Lincoln, and he feels stupid and more than a little cruel to have missed it. He had the woman he loves literally return from the dead; no wonder his sister thinks he's an idiot for not saying anything.

"It's not a waste," he says. "Just because--I'm going to ask her. But not doing it yet, it isn't a waste."

"And if she gets killed tomorrow?"

He pauses. "Yeah, I get what you're going for, but that sucks no matter what. Having sex before someone dies isn't a huge comfort."

She inclines her head. "You know what I mean."

"I know." He wraps his arm around her. "I'm too chickenshit," he admits. "But I'm working on it."

"You're an idiot."

"That too. You're pretty good at this dispensing wisdom thing, you know?"

"Almost like I love you and want you to be happy."

"I am happy," he assures her. "But thanks anyway."

*

He's working on something to say to Clarke, but timing really is an issue. When they aren't in meetings together, they're in meetings separately, and the amount of time they have together and in private is basically non-existent. He loves Madi and he's glad beyond words that she's taken to him too, but she's taken to coming to him after dinner and demanding stories, which eats up his whole evening, and then she and Clarke go to their room without him and remind him that, as much as he wants to be, he isn't a _real_ part of the family.

It's another thing to talk to her about, if he ever figures out when and how.

And then, without any warning, she solves the _when_ for him.

She's supposed to be busy all afternoon, involved in a hydroponics meeting he got out of by virtue of being useless with hydroponics, and he'd been idly thinking about going by when it was about to wrap up to see if he could get some time with her, but that wasn't happening for a few hours. He'd had a fairly appealing afternoon of reading and maybe napping ahead of him, at least until Echo shows up.

"We took a vote, and everyone decided it was my day to try to keep you from moping today."

"I'm not moping," he grumbles.

"You're not particularly pleasant company right now."

"Good thing you've got a ton of other options. You don't actually have to hang out with me anymore. We're not stuck in space together."

"Then you'd be alone."

"I was going to read. I _like_ reading. I don't actually need supervision at all times. I'm good." He wets his lips. "I'm going to talk to her, okay? Figure out if I've got a shot."

"If you don't, she's an idiot," Echo says, fierce, and he has to smile.

"That's not really how it works. But thanks for the vote of confidence."

He changes the subject to hunting and Echo lets him, and he does his best not to fret about how _real_ this makes it. If Echo knows he's going to talk to Clarke, then she'll tell Murphy and Harper, and they'll tell everyone else, and he'll be _accountable_. If he doesn't do it, everyone will know.

And then there's Clarke at the door, looking a little nervous, as if she doesn't want to interrupt, and he can't help grinning, for all he has to assume she has bad news.

"Hey, I thought you had that hydroponics meeting."

She tucks some rogue strands of hair behind her ear. "We took a vote and decided we didn't want to have it. Too many meetings. So I thought I'd hang out, but if you're busy--"

Echo, of course, is on top of that, and immediately cuts Clarke off with, "I was just leaving." It's an incredibly obvious lie, and judging from Clarke's expression she knows it, but she's not objecting, so--they're actually going to get some alone time. He can live with that. "I'll see the two of you at dinner, I assume."

"Yeah, I assume so," he says. "Good luck with the hunting."

Once she's gone, Bellamy remembers that he still hadn't really come up with anything good to _say_ to Clarke, which has basically been his problem since they hit the ground again. He sees her and his brain just gets stuck on the fact that she's here and alive and he can't feel anything but profound gratitude towards the entire universe. 

So Clarke's the one who finally offers, "Monty and Miller hooked up."

He'd been getting gossip on both sides of that one, and he has to smile. "Yeah, I was hoping that was going to happen."

For some reason, she looks nervous, worrying her lip with her teeth. He's not sure why this would be a source of stress for her. "I didn't know he and Harper broke up," she says. "I guess it was old news for you guys, but--"

"Oh, yeah." It doesn't really explain much, but it explains something. It's probably weird, not knowing things like that. To have missed so many years. "I guess I thought it was kind of obvious," he adds, and her somewhat wistful smile just makes him feel worse.

"Apparently I have trouble reading your relationships. I thought you and Echo were, um--"

The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, that Clarke might think he'd come down with any kind of romantic attachment. Which is, in retrospect, ridiculous. Why _wouldn't_ she think that? He should have realized. He can't believe he didn't think of it sooner, and for a second all he can do is think of every time he let Clarke leave him and Echo alone together and resist the urge to his his head on the wall.

"No, that's not--we're not--" he starts, but she's laughing, smiling, moving closer, and his voice dies in his throat.

"I got that," she says, looking up at him, leaning closer, and he can't believe it was this fucking _easy_. All he had to do was tell her he wasn't with Echo. If it had occurred to him, he would have done it sooner. He would have done it the first fucking _day_.

But she's still looking at him, expectant, so he ducks his head to kiss her, and she grins into it, tugging him closer, and he's _kissing Clarke Griffin_ , and apparently she really, really wanted to kiss him, as much as he wanted to kiss her.

"Clarke," he murmurs, as she tugs him toward the bed. "We don't have to--"

"Don't have to what?" she asks, fingers toying with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"No rush."

"Speak for yourself. I know _you_ got laid on the Ark, but I've been stuck on Earth having sex dreams about you for six years."

"About me?" he asks, torn between feeling flattered and a little guilty.

She pushes him back onto his bed, gently enough he wouldn't have to go, if he didn't want to. Which is absurd, but kind of sweet. He falls onto the bed and pulls her on top of him, grinning so much it hurts.

"Sorry, am I supposed to be having sex dreams about someone else?" She bites the corner of her mouth, looking down at him, and this is already the hottest thing that's ever happened to him, and no one's lost any clothing yet. "It's not hard to figure out what's important in the apocalypse. I had six years with nothing to do but miss you."

"Well, now I feel like an asshole," he says, but it doesn't quite land as teasing. He means it too much. "I would have--I missed you too. So fucking much. But I thought you were dead."

"I'm not offended you didn't have sex dreams about me," she says, pulling him back down, and his fingers slide under the hem of her shirt, pulling it up.

"I did," he admits. "It just sucked when I woke up and--"

"Okay, not a good thing to talk about right now," she says, her smile gentle. "I'm here, Bellamy. I'm here, and I'm alive, and I love you."

A lump rises in his throat. She sounds so matter-of-fact, like it's as obvious as all the other things she said. Maybe it is. He'd like it to be.

"I love you too," he says, leaning down to kiss her again.

"Yeah," she says. "I noticed."

He kisses down her neck to her shoulder, smiling as she moans. "You didn't," he teases. He can tease her about dating; it still feels like he might wake up and it's all a lie. But she definitely _feels_ real. "You had no idea."

"But we figured it out," she says.

"Yeah," she agrees, pulling him back up for another kiss. "We did it."


End file.
